


Worth a Second Look

by debwalsh, Stucky1980



Series: Worth a Second Look and Then Some [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption by Dog, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Civilian Life, Courting through Porn Links, Discovering Life after the Avengers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Howard Stark Post-War Retreat, Hurricane, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Putting Down the Shield, Resolved Romantic Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Retirement, Steve and Bucky Discover Fan Fiction, Steve and Bucky Discover Porn, Stucky AU Big Bang 2018, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sex by the fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stucky1980/pseuds/Stucky1980
Summary: Now complete with all the art and an epilogue/coda.When Bucky approaches Steve about fan fiction -thatkind of fan fiction - and suggests that maybe that’s what they could be together, Steve decides to hang up the shield for a while to explore the potential.  It’s a long road to happiness, punctuated by a move to a New England island retreat owned by Howard Stark, adoption by a local dog, civilian domesticity, new friends and old discoveries, misunderstandings, and finally, figuring out just who they are to each other, and what they want out of the next hundred years together.A tale of discovery, adoption by dog, and not so blissful domestication.Written for the Stucky AU Big Bang 2018, illustrated byLisa Mott, and beta read bybethofaus.  Thank you, ladies, for helping to bring this story into the world.  I could not have done it without the both of you.





	1. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BethofAus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethofAus/gifts).



> This story has gone through a number of twists and turns since I first started thinking about it over a year ago. It was originally going to be a submission to the Cap Reverse Big Bang 2018, but I got stuck on one of the artist’s requirements - that it be post-Endgame. I got stuck in my head, and I disappeared there, and the artist dropped me for lack of communication. I realized afterward that as sad as that was, it’s what the story needed. I was never going to be able to write this story if I had to make it canon compliant with Infinity War. To do that, I was going to have to figure out how to bring Bucky back to domestic bliss from Infinity War, and that’s where I got stuck. I did have a headcanon, mind you, but the mechanics just froze my brain. Pity, the artist’s work was glorious, and I did really want to write to it.
> 
> Coming into the Stucky AU Big Bang, I gave my Patreon patrons a list of possible AU ideas, and asked that they vote on the one they liked the best. Worth a Second Look won, and gained new life as part of this bang.
> 
> I’ve previewed each chunk of the story for my patrons and my wonderful artist, Lisa Mott. I received encouragement, commentary, suggestions, and the hint of a complaint on occasion - all of which helped me to write a story I genuinely love. Not everything I’d planned for the story ended up working in the long run, but what’s here is the story I needed to tell. And then one of them, Beth, volunteered to beta! Every day, I am grateful for my patrons. 
> 
> A year later, the story is done, and it’s what it was supposed to be all along. Enjoy.

 

 

  


* * *

**Late April** **  
**  
“Hey, Steve.  You ever read any of these stories they write about us?”  
  
Steve looked up from where he was ironing his uniform – the Army one, not the Suit – and shrugged.  “What, like news stories? I skip those, let Pepper’s team vet that shit. What I don’t read, I don’t have to sue over …”  
  
“Yeah, or punch somebody out,” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he sat up from where he’d been starfishing on the sofa.  “No, not news stories … and when did you ever sue anyone when a punch in the schnoz would do?”  
  
“Funny man, Barnes.  Oh, but you’re not. So you talkin’ that historical shit?  All that patriotic crap about how the Howlies were falling all over themselves beggin’ to march into the jaws of death with Captain America?  Nobody ever mentions how I had to bribe Dum Dum with a box of cigars every month to convince him to join up. Or Dernier’s explosives fetish.”  
  
“Or Monty’s fondness for silk stockings, hold the garters.  Yeah, they were good times. But no, not historical. Well, some of it’s historical, but like, historical fiction?”  
  
“Oh, you mean like comic books – I like the graphic novels better – tighter stories, and way better art.”  
  
Bucky sat there looking at Steve for a long moment before he snorted a laugh.  “I’m thinking from your reactions you’ve never read these stories.”  
  
Steve put the iron down – on the heat plate, safety first after all – and looked at Bucky with that patented “Captain America Is Done With Your Shit, Son” look.  Bucky snorted again, this time behind his hand, his gray-blue eyes dancing with mirth. Steve snorted right back, pursing his lips in a grimace caught somewhere between disgust and fondness.  “All right, I give. What kinda stories?”  
  
“Fan fiction.”  
  
“What the heck is fan fiction?”  
  
“It’s stories, y’know?  That fans write. Fiction by fans.  About us. Y’know … together …”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I’ve been reading some of ‘em.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And now I kinda really wanna see your dick.”  
  
“My dick?  What the fuck, Buck?”  
  
“Well, that, too.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“In these stories.  They have us … doing stuff.  Together. To each other. With each other.”  
  
“Each other.”  
  
“Yeah.  Lovers, Steve.  They write us as lovers.  Fucking lovers. With dicks.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I guess some people find the idea of two really hot men having sex together … well, hot.  Intriguing. A turn-on, y’know?”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“And after reading a bunch of this stuff, I kinda see the appeal.  The turn-on.”  
  
“Of what?  Sex with guys?  Or you and me? You know, doing that.”  
  
“Well … both.  You know I haven’t been much interested since I got back.  Not since, well, not since before. Before I left Brooklyn.  That last night at the Stark Expo, really.”  
  
“Shit, really?  You flirt all the time.”  
  
“Flirting is fun.  And you know that flirting with Shuri is high art, especially with her brother looking on. And flirting with Nakia always just made him wanna chew glass, and she was always a good sport – she really loves winding him up, and between you’n’me, she tells me the make-up sex is worth it.  I value my balls, so I was mostly just polite to Okoye, but I saw her wink at me once or twice. But it was always just fun, practice for me, a goof for them, I think. And yeah, I love gettin’ a rise out of T’Challa – y’gotta admit that when he gets all blustery big brother, he’s hella cute.  And since we got back to the States, I think I kinda do it on autopilot. But I, ah, I haven’t had much urge to take it further than just flirting, y’know? Like, no urge.”  
  
“So, what, it doesn’t work anymore?” Steve frowned, his eyebrows somehow pointing toward Bucky’s groin.  
  
Bucky blew him a raspberry, shaking his head.  “Oh, it works. I can clean the pipes okay. No problems there.  It’s just … haven’t been interested, y’know? In what’s on offer.  It’s like … the Wakandans are friends, and it was just a game. But outside, before, when I was on the run … and since we got back to New York … it’s like it’s too much pressure.  With women. They have … expectations today. Maybe they always did, you know I don’t always remember everything. But I feel like they’re playing a game I don’t know the rules to, like they know more than I do …”  
  
“Welcome to my world,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head.  “So … you wanna mess around because you can’t figure out how to do it with women anymore?  Wow, way to woo a guy, Buck.”  
  
“No, no, that’s not what I mean.  I mean that I’m more interested in seeing what it’s like with a guy, with you, than I am in doing it with women.  And I guess guys would have expectations, too. So the pressure’s the same, y’know? Maybe worse. I dunno if this is something new, or if it’s always been there.  I mean, we’ve always been close, closer’n brothers, right? Maybe this attraction was always there, and I just didn’t realize what it was. And now I got a context – from these stories – I’m curious.  Interested. Like, really interested. Are you sayin’ you never been … well, attracted to me?”  
  
“Honestly?  Never thought about it.  Never thought about women much, either – today, man or woman, it’s a pretty sure bet they’re interested in Captain America, not Steve Rogers, and, well, I don’t need that shit.  I have a good relationship with my right hand, thank you very much – I don’t need my soul crushed by someone who wants to fuck Cap and post it all over the internet.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.  I get that, and I’m sorry these assholes make you feel that way.  I remember, I think, back in the day … they made you feel bad because they overlooked you.”  
  
“Still overlooking Steve Rogers.  All anyone sees is the suit. ‘Cept you.  And Peggy. You always saw me, didn’t you, Buck?”  
  
“Yeah.  I know you were small, and you had health issues.  But what I remember most is how big you were – your sense of righteousness, your will.  Your pissy attitude when somebody crossed you.” Steve chuckled, and Bucky had to shake his head affectionately.  “No one was as big as you. I think of you back then, and I see a pillar of fire where you’re standing. Burning with God’s holy wrath, and fueled by piss and vinegar,” he added with a smirk, and Steve snorted a laugh in response, ducking his head and shaking it with a fond smile.  “And it sucks that people can’t see that. I think maybe I’m afraid all anyone’s gonna see is the arm, y’know? Or the whole Hydra thing. Or, you know, the soulless assassin for 50 years and change. Honestly, there’s not a whole lot I got going for me.”  
  
He held his hand up to forestall the sputtering that was Steve gearing up for a morally superior tirade.  “Normal people ain’t lookin’ for somebody that has as much baggage as I do. I get that, and I’ve made my peace with it.  People aren’t attracted to people they’re afraid of, or who they think should be paying for crimes against humanity. At least nobody I’d wanna be with.  I know there are serial killer fuckers out there. Nuts to that pal!” Again, the sputtering, again the hand, built of vibranium by the greatest mind on the planet, and a helluva good dancer.  “Tut, tut, tut. It’s the truth, Steve. Get over yourself. Yes, I’ve been cleared. Yes, the words are gone. Yes, I’m much better, thank you. And yes, there are some people who seem to see past all that in Wakanda.  Because the royal family can see past that. And maybe some people here in New York, some other places. That’s all well and good. And obviously these fan fiction writers think I’m not so bad – kinda hot actually. Fluffy, in fact, in a grumpy kind of way.  But … do you think you could be? Attracted to me, I mean.”  
  
Steve was uncharacteristically silent as he gave the question actual thought.  “I dunno, Buck. Like I said, I never thought about it. But, what if I am? What then?”  
  
“Then maybe we see where that takes us, y’know?  I mean, who’s better for either one of us than the other?  I know I can trust you – I hope you know you can trust me, Steve –”  
“Oh, I do, Buck, in every way that counts.  But this … it’s not that I’m against fellas bein’ with fellas – you remember the neighborhood we lived in before the war.  We both had friends who were queer, good friends, too. I ain’t against it in principal. I just dunno if it’s right for me.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt, y’know, turned on by a guy. Not much by gals, either. Peggy was, y’know, kinda the exception. And we never did more than one kiss,” Steve added wistfully.  
  
“Yeah, okay.  I don’t wanna make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”  
  
“It’s not that, it’s really not.  I just don’t know.”  
  
“Well, how about I send you some of these links, then?  Some videos I like. The stories I’ve been reading. See if it, well, see if it gets your motor running.  If not, then no harm, no foul. My right hand ain’t a stranger, either, y’know?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.  Yeah, that sounds like a plan.  Send me the links, I’ll take a look.  Just … don’t get your hopes up, all right?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, Steve.  Thanks for takin’ a look, right?”  
  
&&&  
  
Steve wandered into his bedroom from the en suite bathroom – and what a bathroom!  He still couldn’t get over the fact he could’ve fit two of his and Buck’s cold water walkup in the bathroom alone, and then there was the bedroom, and the studio, and Buck’s suite … and sometimes it was just an embarrassment of riches.  And then he stepped into the shower, felt the jets pummel his skin and ease the ache away that he hadn’t even realized he’d felt … and he wondered if a part of him had transcended to heaven when he woke from the ice.  
  
People thought the serum meant he felt no pain.  They couldn’t be more wrong. Steve felt pain, felt every hit, every crunch of bone, every laceration, every damaged organ.  Felt it break, felt it tear, felt it disintegrate, then felt it try to heal itself, stitch by stitch by stitch, felt it down to his core.    
  
Truth was, Steve felt too damn much some days.  He’d wince and hold the injury, shuffle along to Medical, or walk it off because there was another weird alien coming at him, but he was very much aware of the damage, the efforts his body made to heal, and the lingering oddness of knitting tissue.  Thing was, he’d always been able to compartmentalize pain and discomfort. He knew how to box it up and set it aside so he could get on with the business of living. Learned it at a young age, just like Buck did.  
  
They knew how to ignore what felt bad.  Thing was, Steve was still learning how to appreciate what felt good.  And that shower of his? That felt good.  
  
And after the talk they had, he wondered just how much of the good things Buck let himself feel.  Oh, he could smile with the best of them, but he’d fooled even Steve over the flirting. And that worried Steve, that Buck felt he had to put on a face for him.  
  
As he rubbed the fluffy towel over his head, mussing up his hair and sopping up some of the wet that dripped down his neck, he glanced over at the tablet sitting by his bed.  
  
Buck was gonna send him links.  
  
Links to stories.  Videos. Stuff.  
  
“JARVIS?” he called out softly.  
  
“Here, Captain,” answered the British-flavored voice gently, and once again, he felt a pang or loss, of missed opportunities.  What would Peggy make of the idea of him and Bucky together, he wondered. Would she have been surprised, shocked, disgusted? Or would she have thought it was the natural next step in a relationship closer than blood?  
  
He shook his head, seeing the light catch in the droplets that went flying.  “Privacy mode, please,” he replied, drawing a deep breath.  
  
“And if Sir needs to reach you?”  
  
“Screen any incoming calls.  No interruptions unless we’re under direct attack.  And that includes coffee machine glitches, no matter what Tony says.  But oh – if Sergeant Barnes is in any kind of distress –“  
  
“I’ll be sure to alert you, Captain.  Protocol Delta, sir?”  
  
“Yes, please.  If he’s in distress, that overrides my privacy.”  
  
“Even if you’re not finished, sir?”  
  
“I, uh, well –“ Steve found himself blushing as he looked up toward the ceiling where he imagined JARVIS lived.  He might be an AI, an artificial construct created by Tony Stark, but he still thought of him as a proper Englishman, more proper than he remembered Monty to be, and one whose sensibilities he needed to respect.  But JARVIS knew when he asked for privacy mode, he was planning on what they call “me time” in this century. Despite what the others thought of him, he wasn’t entirely sexless, he just hadn’t found the right partner.  And his right hand knew what he liked, and never disappointed.  
  
But if Buck needed him …  
  
“Even if I’m not finished, JARVIS.”  
  
“Sergeant Barnes is a fortunate fellow, Captain.  To have a friend as considerate as you are. If you don’t mind me saying, sir, it’s an honor to serve you.”  
  
“Well, thanks, JARVIS  I, um, I appreciate that.  But it’s nothing special – it’s what you do for someone you care about.”  
  
“Perhaps.  But you’re the only person I know who puts someone else ahead of their pleasure the way you do for Sergeant Barnes.  Well, except for Sergeant Barnes, that is. He has the same order standing in place for you, you know.”  
  
“Aren’t you violating his privacy telling me that?”  
  
“Sometimes it’s important for you to know, I think.  An important piece of information for you to consider, given your conversation this afternoon.”  
  
“Oh, you listened in on that.”  
  
“I receive all inputs, sir.  You did not stipulate the conversation was private – however, everything you say to each other is totally confidential.  Not even Sir can override that protocol, unless he can demonstrate your life is at stake.”  
  
“Well, how about we go into stealth privacy mode, then, hmmm?”  
  
“No sound, just diagnostic mode.”  
  
“Yeah.  And you won’t –“  
  
“I have your baseline, Captain.  Both resting and … excited. Yes, sir.”  
  
There was no mistaking the gentle laughter embedded in those words, and not for the first time, Steve wondered what the AI made of the flesh constructs in his care.  Such odd beings they must be to him, and yet, he frequently anticipated their needs and wants with unsettling accuracy.  
  
He had no idea if the stories and links Bucky forwarded him would make him feel anything, but he owed it to Buck to give it a shot.  It kind of broke his heart a little that he couldn’t just come out and say that sure he wanted to fuck him. But he would admit to himself that the idea of something more, something intimate and involving, intrigued him.  So, he’d give it a shot.  
  
“Thank you, JARVIS.  I appreciate your delicacy.”  
  
“My pleasure, Captain.  As I hope you find yours.”  
  
Of course he’d get the last word …  
  
&&&  
  
Steve’s chest was heaving, glistening with sweat and pooled cum spattered over his abs and up to his pecs.  He licked his lips, and caught the bitter taste of his own cum on his tongue.  
  
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.  
  
Who knew?  
  
Steve was no stranger to queer people. They’d lived in a queer neighborhood back in the day, and there had been a number of sweet boys in the company when he’d been a dancing monkey for bonds.  He’d had his share of invites, from boys and girls in the chorus. He hadn’t partaken, and sometimes he was sorry he hadn’t - back in 1942, gossip moved only as fast as two people talking, and he hadn’t realized the opportunities he’d missed until he’d seen how quickly reputations were made and destroyed in the age of social media.  
  
So he wasn’t against men going with men.  He’d had friends, colleagues, who’d risked everything to be with the person they loved.  He respected their courage and dedication.  
  
It’s just ... he’d never thought of himself as one of them.  
  
But now that he’d watched a few of the porn links Buck sent him?  
  
Well.  Color him intrigued.  
  
Not to mention covered in his own damned cum.  He’d never come so hard in his life, and his dick felt like he’d stripped a few gears, he’d worked it so hard.  
  
So ... attracted to men? He couldn’t honestly say that he was attracted to men in general.  He didn’t walk into the lounge and pop a boner at the sight of Tony Stark. He didn’t look at Sam and feel any kind of longing, any need beyond giving him shit.  And he’d certainly never felt anything but fond curiosity about Bruce. Now Thor ... no, not Thor, either. He was objectively attractive, and big and strong enough to take anything Steve might dish out.  That was ... interesting. But not necessarily erotic.  
  
So, Steve found gay porn a turn-on, but wasn’t turned on by his colleagues.  
  
But Buck?  
  
Was he turned on by his oldest friend?  
  
He really didn’t know.  He thought he wanted to be.  But was he really? He couldn’t afford to miscalculate this. Not for his sake, and most certainly not for Buck’s.  
  
This wasn’t something he could decide after just one evening of porn-fueled masturbation.  
  
He needed to be careful about this.  But first, as soon as his bones resolidified, he needed a shower.  And maybe some ointment. His dick kind of stung after the way he went to town on it.  
  
He was, however, careful to save those links of Buck’s before he did anything else.

 

 

* * *

* * *

&&&

Bucky was already in their kitchen the next morning, looking well-rested and ... hopeful? Nervous? Braced?

Shit.

Of course he was waiting for a verdict.

Steve gave himself a few moments to frame a response to Buck’s unspoken question by pouring himself a cup of coffee, and filling his plate with bacon, eggs, and home fries, all made just the way he liked them.

Oh.

Bucky was the better cook between them, and it wasn’t unusual for Buck to make breakfast.

But this morning, a routine domestic arrangement took on a greater significance.

Was Bucky wooing Steve?  Had he been all along? Had Steve been missing signals -

“You think too loud, dip shit.  Eat up. Wilson’s meeting us at 1100 hours to go over that proposal thing.”

Proposal?  Had Steve missed some subtext entirely -

“For the interactive history thing for his groups?” Bucky prompted with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah. Whaddya think, should I give him something from the arts program to chew on?”

And just like that, they slid back into just being Steve and Bucky.  No pressure, no expectations. Just a coupl’a assholes giving each other a hard time.

“It was a good program,” Bucky shrugged, shoving three pieces of bacon in his mouth.  “Gave you three squares a day for a good long time. Just the kinda program this country needs, but maybe we start with his groups, see where it leads us, y’know?”

“Yeah, see where it leads us.”

Bucky grinned around a mouth full of half-chewed bacon, and Steve felt something uncoil inside him.

Bucky’s Ma always complained her son acted like he’d been raised by wolves.  Steve was grateful that at least hadn’t changed.

&&&

The meeting with Sam went well, which was to say Sam and Bucky ribbed each other mercilessly while Steve tried - and failed - to be the adult in the room.  He would never understand why two of the most competent people he knew devolved into squabbling children whenever they were in the same room together. It would be funny if it weren’t so exhausting.

And he realized, not for the first time, that this was his life now.  Not just Sam and Buck. Him and Tony, too. They respected the hell out of each other, but neither could pass up a chance to give the other a ration of shit.  And yet, they could always rely on each other - just like Sam and Buck could.

And that gave Steve an idea.  By the time they were done, Sam invited them both out to lunch at a favorite pizzeria nearby.  Bucky was eager to try out a new combination he’d read about on the internet, and Sam loved their sauce.  Steve had something else he felt he needed to do, so he begged off. He was relieved that neither of his friends made a big deal about it, leaving him to his own devices as they continued to razz each other on the way out.

Instead, Steve took a ride down to Tony’s lab, where he knew Stark Junior would be up to his goatee in incomprehensible tech.  This was always where Tony was happiest, and where he was least likely to be over-competitive. He knew he was king of this kingdom, and no one dared challenge his supremacy.

“What is it this time?  Giant robots stomping through Harlem?  Nuclear squid wrapped around Lady Liberty?  Somebody said a swear word on TV?”

“You’re never letting me live that down, are you?  I was a fucking soldier in goddamned Europe, you asshole - I know how to swear.  In fact -“

“I believe you!  I just ... it’s too good, y’know? But anyway, what’s the emergency?  You never visit me just to visit me. I’ve seen you - you get all twitchy if you spend more than 92 seconds in my lab.  I had JARVIS time you.”

“I ... okay, I think you’re right, actually.  So, you know how important this is if I came down here, right?  You know it’s not a joke or anything?”

“Yeah, okay.  You’re here, risking twitching, ergo the reason you’re here is more important than your physical comfort.  Therefore, it must be about Barnes.”

“What makes you think it’s about Bucky?”

“You always put your boyfriend first. Always.  As in, it never fails. Steve has to choose between anything to do with himself, and some whim of the love of his life.  And it’s a no brainer. Of course you’re going to do whatever is going to make Barnes happy, if only for a nanosecond. Am I wrong?”

“Not ... precisely, no.”

“And precisely, what is it that your main squeeze needs?”

“Why do you keep referring to him like that?”

“What?”

“Like we’re romantically involved.”

“It’s a joke. But sometimes I think we all wonder.”

“That’s what I need your help on.”

“You wanna put a ring on it?”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know.  You and Pepper. You relationship goes back pretty far, and for years, it wasn’t romantic at all.”

“Some might say more tragic than romantic, and not in a fun way.”

“Yeah.  But, somehow, you figured out that you were attracted to each other, not just friends.  And you made that work in a real relationship.”

“Pep might disagree some days.  Hell, Bruce could probably quote you calculations and map out predictive algorithms to prove it’s impossible and when the whole thing will implode, but ... I refuse to believe that we’re not meant to be together.  We’ve been through too much together not to make it, y’know?”

“That’s really nice, Tony.  How did you know your feelings had changed?”

“Seriously?  She was always indispensable to me, you know.  I couldn’t function without Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts.  But when I realized I didn’t want to live without her, that I couldn’t live without her, that’s when I suspected.  And when I thought I was going to have to, and it broke me ... I knew.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve kind of done all that already with Barnes.”

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

“And I’m guessing from your reaction, that my tale of romance doesn’t help much.”

“Not at all, really.  I mean ... did it feel different?  Did you feel changed in any way?”

“You two aren’t a thing, are you?”

“No.”

“But you want to be?”

“I don’t know.  That’s the problem.”

“Ah.  Barnes wants to be.  And for the first time in forever, Steve Rogers isn’t leaping to give Bucky Barnes what he wants.  Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. I love Bucky like a brother, more I think.  And he shared some, well, videos -“

“Gay porn?”

Steve nodded, blushing.

“And now you’re wondering if your sexuality is more complicated than you thought. Got a newsflash for ya, Cap. Everyone’s is.”

Steve grimaced at the use of Cap, but the tension in his face eased a little with Tony’s statement.

“But that still doesn’t help, does it?”

“Some.  I guess.”

“So who are you worried about getting hurt more if it goes sideways? You or him?”

Steve started to answer, but shut his mouth abruptly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

“Maybe that’s the place to start.”

&&&

“Okay.  Spill.”

“What?” Bucky asked absently as he studied the menu.  He’d already seen ten different things he wanted to try, and was considering putting in both an in-restaurant and a take-home order.  And he hadn’t even gotten to the dessert part of the menu yet. And he hadn’t even given consideration to what Steve might want.

“What’s got the two of you so weird?”

At that, Bucky looked up, frowning at Sam.  “Weird how?”

“I dunno. Some kinda tension that wasn’t there yesterday.  You two have a fight or something?”

“No, no fight,” Bucky shook his head and went back to the menu, but now his cheeks were pinking and his metal hand gripped the edge of the menu a little harder than it should, effectively crunching it between his fingers.

“Shit,” Sam said softly.  “You told him.”

Bucky breathed out and made a face that was half smile, half grimace, and laid his mangled menu down.  “Told who what?”

“You finally told Steve you love him.”

Bucky sat back in the booth, staring at Sam.  He’d never told him jackshit about his feelings for Steve.  His feelings were nobody’s business but his own, and maybe Steve.  But how the fuck could Wilson know?

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Wilson continued in that smug, knowing way of his that was one breath away from a chuckle.  “And what was his reaction? Like I don’t know ...”

“I didn’t tell him I loved him.  I mean, I love Steve, there’s no doubt of that.  I just don't know if I love him that way.”

“So what then?”

“I told him I’d like to try, you know.  Sex. With each other.”

“You didn’t mention love?”

“I mentioned trust.”

“Yeah, well. That’s pretty important, too.  Especially for you two. And his reaction?”

“He’s not sure.  He’s never ... he’s never thought of me that way.  May not think of me that way. So, yeah. There’s that.”

“If you’re talking this kind of stuff with Steve, I think you should also be touching base with your therapist, Barnes.  These kinds of emotions can be challenging, even if it all goes the way you want it to. But if it doesn’t, you should probably have some coping mechanisms in place.”

“You think he’s not interested.”

“Honestly, I think all of us suspected you’ve been boning each other since the 1930s, so it’s kind of a surprise to find out you’ve never. But if you haven’t, well, there’s no guarantee -“

“That he’ll ever be interested.  I get that. But -“

“But just telling him how you feel has already changed your relationship.  That’s the vibe I was picking up on. He’s not as subtle as he thinks.”

“He’s as subtle as a stampede of buffalo,” Bucky smirked as the waitperson came over to take their order.  He did end up making a sit-down order, and told them he was going to add a take-out order later. “What? Guy’s gotta eat.  And I’m a good cook, but sometimes it’s nice to eat someone else’s cooking.”

“And Steve can’t cook for shit.  In fact -“

“I don’t remember him cooking much when we were younger. We couldn’t afford the waste, so unless it was something we knew he could make, he stayed away from the stove. Now I can afford to let him experiment to his heart’s content, but I’d rather not risk the ptomaine.  But, yeah, it’s nice to have something I didn’t make myself, or didn’t come out of Stark catering.”

“Still got holes in your memory, huh?”

“Therapist says I may never fill in those blanks.”

“There’s something to be said for making new memories.”

“Yeah.  Still, I’d like to be able to remember my family better.  Steve’s Ma. I get flashes sometimes, like afterimages on film. Then I ask him about them, and he tells me what he remembers.  It helps. I can see them more clearly then.”

“Like between the two of you, you got a whole brain.”

“You know I was the most feared assassin on the planet, right?”

“And now you’re a fluffy grumpy cat in a onesie, according to the internet.”

“You found the fan fiction.”

“I found the fan art.  Seriously, dude. How do you get to be an internet god without ever leaving the tower?  I’m out here doing the good work, and not even a chibi to my name.”

“You don’t have my cheekbones, Wilson.”

“I don't have your fucking appetite, either, Jesus, Barnes!” Sam exclaimed as the server led a caravan of coworkers with heavily laden trays.

“Yeah, but you get to help me taste test everything, so dig in and help me sample!”

&&&

“So I talked to Tony -“

“I talked with Sam -“

“Tony?”

“Sam?”

And “What’d he say?” in unison.

They both ducked their heads, smiling shyly before bursting into laughter.  

“Tony, really?” Bucky teased.

Steve shrugged.  “He’s the most ... experienced person I know.  He and Pepper ... they were together as colleagues for years before they got together, y’know?”

“That’s fair.  And he said ...?”

“Well, we kinda defy the odds, y’know? We’ve kinda done everything backwards in a way.  But he asked some good questions. If we were to start something, and it didn’t work out, would you be okay with that?”

“Steve, I think if we’re always honest with each other, we can get through anything.  And I think that’s why Wilson noticed something was off today. We weren’t acting completely open with each other.  And if we can’t do that, then I take it all back. And I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment, either. Just a trial, you know?  But if that’s gonna make things weird between us, then we just say it’s not for us, and we move on.”

“I liked it,” Steve blurted.

“What?”

“The links.  The videos.”

“My curated collection of wankworthy porn?  Well, I’m glad to hear you’re a fellow connoisseur,” Bucky grinned, waggling his eyebrows outrageously.  Then his expression sobered, grew pensive, even hesitant. “That mean you might be interested?”

“I ... I don’t know.  I liked watching ... that.  I don’t know how I feel about ... doing.  With you or anybody else. I just ... I just don’t know yet.”

“See, that’s an honest answer.  I believe you. And I’m grateful you’re even considering it. And if you decide it’s a no, I’m okay with that, Steve.  I really am. Okay?”

“Okay.  Yeah, okay.  So, um, tonight I’ll start on the fan fiction.  Any special favorites?”

“I’ll send you a list in order of the Barnes WankoMeter, okay?”

Steve snorted at the stupid name, laughing just like he was meant to. Then he grew more serious again, and asked quietly, “What did Sam have to say?”

“Thinks I should talk about this all with my therapist, which, okay, that’s a good idea.  And he also made a suggestion for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

“He thinks we should get away.  From the tower, from New York, from everyone.  Go somewhere completely neutral for both of us.  So we can figure out how we feel about each other without any prompting or pressure.  It’s a great idea, but I know you can’t -“

“No.  No, I love the idea.  Wow, I really, really love the idea.  There are enough enhanced people now that I don’t have to go on every mission, I don’t even go on many of them.  I mean, half the time my role is more strategist than, um -“

“Blunt instrument,” Bucky offered helpfully.

“Thanks, asshole.  But yeah. There are others as strong as me, who have some kind of super healing factor.  Hell, we got people who can phase right through a bullet without any damage at all. You know ... I don’t always have to be on site, here, to pitch in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  In fact, now I’m thinking about it, I’m beginning to wonder if they really need me anymore.”  At Bucky’s indrawn breath, no doubt to reassure Steve of his everlasting importance to the team, Steve shook his head emphatically.  “No, not in a self-pitying way, but in a liberating way. Like, I don’t have to keep being Captain America. I could maybe be just Steve Rogers.  Have a life, you know?”

“Now you’re talkin’, pal!  So what’s next?”

“I think I need to talk to Pepper.  And maybe Hill. Geeze, I hope I don’t have to talk to the President again.”

“Okay, you do that.  I got about twenty dishes from the pizza place to put away.  Wait ‘til you try their antipasto - put some balsamic glaze on that puppy, and you’ve gone to heaven, I promise you.”

&&&

“A break,” Pepper repeated, looking serenely at Steve while he sat across from her, fidgeting.

“Yeah.  Buck and me ... we kinda need some time to figure some stuff out.”

The smile that spread across her face was nothing short of beatific.  “Finally,” she breathed softly, then louder, “What did you have in mind?”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?  Do you, what’s the internet term - ‘ship’ us, too?”

Pepper blushed and stammered, her perfect corporate demeanor falling away to reveal the flailing fangirl beneath.

“It’s okay.  Tony told me that most of you think we’ve been a couple since the ‘30s.  We weren’t. We aren’t.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Buck is interested.  I’m not so sure. So ...”

“The need for a break,” she concluded, nodding and back to business.  “Okay. As you know, Stark Industries owns a number of properties all over the world.  Tony privately owns even more. You’re looking to get away from paparazzi, away from what -”

“Being Captain America, to be honest.  I need time to be just Steve, whatever that means.  I feel like the Avengers -”

  
“Can take care of themselves.  You have a preference for climate, country?”  
  
They went on like that for a little while as Pepper entered information into her laptop.  They’d been chatting back and forth as they did, and suddenly she stopped, fingers poised over the keys.  
  
“You know, there’s something else you might want to consider, too.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“James received his honorable discharge some time ago, right?”  
  
“Yeah, Buck was cleared, he got his discharge, and a hefty paycheck from Uncle Sam.”  
  
“But you’re still a commissioned officer.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Which means even if the Avengers don’t call you up -“  
  
“The US government can.  Yeah, so?”  
  
“So maybe it’s time for Captain Rogers to retire as well.”  
  
“Resign my commission?”  
  
“It was a battlefield commission bestowed in 1943, Steve.  It’s 2019. You served what, three years in Europe. You’ve been out of the ice eight years.  You’ve already served multiple tours, and no one has ever actually asked you to re-up.” She tilted her head and looked at him seriously.  “It’s something to consider, Steve.”  
  
“Captain Steven G. Rogers, Army, retired.  It’s a mouthful. But ...”  
  
“If you’re interested in pursuing that too, I can put Hill on it.”  
  
Steve nodded thoughtfully.  “Yeah. Yeah, I want that, too.”  
  
“Okay.  Leave it with me.  I’ll have a couple of options for you and James to look over by, um, tomorrow okay?”  
  
“More than okay, Pep.  Thanks. For everything. For -“  
  
“Sometimes, we need to be reminded to come home, Steve.  I’m glad to see you thinking about it.”  
  
Home.  
  
And what would that be, he wondered?  
  
&&&  
  
That night, Steve went through his normal evening routines, but with an extra edge of anticipation and nerves. His skin tingled all over in expectation of something new and exciting in the pages of the fan fiction that Bucky had chosen for him, and he’d noticed a couple of new video links, too.  
  
It was almost like they were having a courtship without ever touching each other.  
  
And Steve knew that he was going to have to do something about that.  Soon. If he really wasn’t interested in pursuing a sexual relationship with Bucky, it wasn’t fair to keep him suspended, waiting.  But if it was something they both really wanted, then was there any point in delaying?  
  
He really needed to figure his shit out.  
  
But in the meantime, he found himself looking forward to taking his time in the shower, jacking his dick slowly to bring it to full hardness.  Then he toweled down and slipped into comfy sweats and snuggled down in bed to open Buck’s links on his tablet. Lit only by the glow of the screen, Steve open the first link and settled in to read, gently fondling his balls and pausing every so often to stroke his dick, until he finally propped the tablet up on a pillow and took matters in both hands until he came with a shout that punched its way up from his gut.  
  
Okay.  Fan fiction did it for him, too.  And this time he’d been prepared with wet wipes so he could clean himself up quickly and just melt into the mattress.  
  
Next morning, he realized the past two nights had been some of the best sleep of his life.  
  
He and Buck each had things they were scheduled to do, so they exchanged pleasantries over waffles Buck had made using a Captain America shield waffle iron that Tony had gifted them with a while back.    
  
“I can’t decide if it tastes like freedom or stupid.”  
  
“It tastes stupid?”  
  
“No, like stupid.  As in you got all the stupid.”  
  
“Nah, you took that all with you, remember?’  
  
“Steve, I can assure you that you had extra stupid to spare. So what’s the word from Pepper?  Anything yet?”  
  
“She said she’d have something today.  Maybe. At least we know we can trust her. We’re not gonna end up in a backyard yurt, or dossing down in a bordello.”  
  
“While either of those options sound weirdly intriguing, I’m gonna go for the option with running water, indoor plumbing, and decent WiFi.”  
  
“Seriously, WiFi?”  
  
“I am not missing my shows, Steve.  Not even for you. Streaming is your friend.”  
  
“You need a hobby.”  
  
“Play your cards right, and you could be my hobby.”  
  
“We end up doing this, I’ll be your life’s vocation, not a goddamned hobby.”  
  
Bucky looked at him for a long moment, lips slightly parted, a rising pink tinge to his cheeks as his eyes darkened.  “I could work with that,” he breathed, a hopeful smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Steve felt a thrill of ... something ... zing through him, and he wondered - was this what attraction to Bucky felt like?  Or was it just the flirting, the promise of something illicit that made this seem exciting?  
  
And why couldn’t Steve tell the difference?  
  
&&&  
  
Pepper texted later that day to ask for an extension, so the hunt for their retreat remained suspended for an extra day.  They both had things to do, and passed in and out of each other’s orbits repeatedly throughout the day, trading pleasantries and smirking barbs in equal measure.    
  
&&&  
  
That night, Steve opened his e-mail to more links from Buck - more videos, more fan fiction.  This time, he’d included commentary about why he was sharing these particular links - not necessarily because they were especially scintillating, but because he thought they exemplified various “tropes” that were common in fan fiction, and Bucky had enjoyed the stories as well as the porn.  
  
Steve read a couple, and had to admit that the authors were pretty good at world building - the “alternate universes” were particularly interesting.  He’d never allowed himself the luxury of imagining a different life for himself. He’d made goals and stuck to them until he achieved his object. Live another day.  Survive pneumonia. Pass the English test. Get in the Army.  
  
Save Bucky.  
  
But these “AU”s as they were called were fascinating in their diversity and imagination.  For example, he’d always loved Disney, but he’d never imagined himself as the hero of one of his favorite films.  
  
If nothing else, it gave him some great ideas for Halloween.  
  
Out of curiosity, he searched the archive for his name in connection with other “characters.”  Most of the options were with other men, some who existed, some who were wholly fictional, some he’d met, some he hadn’t.  There was a whole slew of stories putting him in bed with an actor he’d heard of. He made the mistake of reading a bit of that, and realized he would never be able to look the man in the face if he ever met him.  Because, damn, it was hot.  
  
There were stories with him with women, too.  Stories that developed elements of his sexuality that he’d never considered for himself.  Stories of him with the “reader.”  
  
He was amazed at the breadth of expression, the questing nature of some of the stories.  The exploration of sexuality on display.  
  
Some of them he didn’t like.  He didn’t like stories that depicted him as a serial killer, or some kind of horrible person who used and abused people.  He found a thread of stories that seemed to glorify the horrors that Buck went through, and he dove into the help section of the site to figure out how he could block those types of stories.  Objectively, he understood the concepts of free speech and transformative work, but he didn’t have to subject himself to things that he found beyond uncomfortable. He couldn’t understand the motivation behind writing such things, but he hoped it calmed some inner demon.  That’s what he chose to believe in any case.  
  
He glanced at his bedside clock and was stunned to realize that he’d spent hours going down the fan fiction rabbit hole. Maybe in future, he’d limit himself to Buck’s links, maybe subscribe to a few authors to catch their latest works.  Not do so much investigating on his own. It might be safer that way ...  
  
Finally, he snuggled down and opened one of Bucky’s video links.  It was a professional video, available to subscribers for a fee. The lead actor looked a bit like Buck, actually, right down to the smirk and swagger Steve remembered from their youth.  This particular link featured a slender young blond man who ... wow. Yeah. He kinda looked like Steve when Steve was small.  
  
And wow again.  It was sort of like watching young Steve and Bucky exploring each other, something that had never happened, and Steve had never imagined before.  But watching this video now, Steve was starting to wonder if maybe they hadn’t missed out on something.  
  
Steve was happy for the mental - and sexual - palate cleanser after that wrong turn in fan fiction, and was quite happy with the video and the way it made him feel.  If nothing else came out of this, at the very least, Steve had discovered a really effective set of videos to help him blow off steam.  
  
After he’d wiped himself off, he tucked himself away and slid smoothly into a dreamless, restful sleep.  
  
&&&  
  
“As you know, Stark Industries owns a number of properties around the world, and Tony personally owns even more.  We have lots of different options for you without even leaving Stark assets. And of course, there are even more options outside of our holdings, although there might be more hoops to go through to acquire them for an undefined period of time -”  
  
“Wow, Pep.  This is amazing.  More than we’d expected, honestly,” Steve said, shaking his head in both wonder and confusion.  It was just too much, really. He was hoping for one or two suggestions, not hundreds of options.”  
  
“Exactly,” she agreed readily, then tapped a few keys to alter the search algorithm.  “I narrowed the list down by adding more of your criteria - not city-based, small local population, warm climate, local arts scene, farmers‘ market, strong WiFi signal,” she nodded toward Bucky, who leaned back in his seat with a grin. “You didn’t limit me to the United States, which gives us a fair number of options to choose from.”  She nodded toward their tablets, which each became populated by her curated choices.  
  
Both men started swiping through the choices, leaning toward each other to murmur opinions, questions, and general reactions.  Pepper sat quietly through it for a while, acting as though she weren’t the CEO of the largest tech company on the planet. After about fifteen minutes, she finally asked, “Anything strike your fancy?”  
  
Bucky looked up first and smiled.  “Do you have a favorite?” he asked.  
  
She opened and closed her mouth, then folded her hands in front of her before answering.  “It doesn’t actually meet all your criteria, but I do have a favorite.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“It’s lovely in the summer, but it’s not in a warm climate,” she warned, but brought up the details to display on the big screen as well as to their tablets.  
  
“It’s an island.  Stark owns an island?”  
  
“He and the company own several, actually.  But we don’t actually own this particular island.  It’s off the coast of Massachusetts, boasts a small but permanent population of several thousand people.  A fishing port, a couple of small towns, farms, a vineyard, schools, even a local theatre troupe that shares space with the local movie theater.  The theater itself is actually pre-war - pre-World War II, that is. A local artists’ colony that’s been there since the 1930s. It’s a thriving community, self-sufficient the way New Englanders are by nature.  The house sits on the coast, looking out over the Atlantic.”  
  
“It sounds kind of perfect, actually. So what’s the catch?” Bucky asked, leaning forward.  
  
“Well, it’s the one Stark property where JARVIS has never been installed.”  
  
Steve felt his eyes widen in surprise.  “I thought Tony put JARVIS wherever he might go -“  
  
“Tony won’t go there.”  She shook her head. “He hates the place.”  
  
“There’s a story here.”  
  
“It was Howard’s.  It was his private retreat.  Tony went there once, said it smelled like too much Dad, not enough Mom, and swore he’d never go back.”  
  
“But you’ve been there?”  
  
“I’ve used it several times as a getaway.  When I’ve needed to think. About Tony, mostly.  It’s the one place on the planet I know I can go and he won’t follow.”  
  
“And you’re offering to let us use your safe place?”  
  
“One of the reasons I like it so much is because I feel like it calms me, helps me heal.  It’s like, with all the tech stripped away, I can think more clearly. It’s the place Howard went when he came home from Europe.  It’s the place he went when he needed to get away.”  
  
“With his floozies?” Steve asked, remembering Howard’s penchant for skirts and women who’d lose them for him.  
  
“No.  Apparently Howard never took anyone here.  It really was the place Howard Stark went to heal.”  
  
“Y’know, it’s sounding more and more perfect,” Bucky said, looking at Steve with a hopeful glint in his eyes.  
  
“It really is.  There’s gotta be a downside, though, right?”  
  
“It can be inaccessible in bad weather.  Being an island off Massachusetts, it can be in the path of major storms, including hurricanes.  Depending on how long you stay and what the weather is, you could find yourself stuck. I mean, Tony might be able to get in with a Quinjet, but it could be a tough landing in bad weather.”  
  
“Stuck on an island with you,” Bucky said softly.  “It has its attractions.”  
  
Steve smiled, imagining a scenario probably very different from what was in Bucky’s mind.  Sketching Buck’s profile by the light of a fire, painting the sun rising over the water, doodling dockworkers and fishermen going about their day ... it’d been a long time since Steve had been inspired to draw, but the world that was forming in his head ... he wanted that.  
  
“I always found the people to be very nice.  There’s a caretaker who maintains the property, and manages the cottage that’s let out to tourists.  It’s ours, too, on the adjacent property. We can ensure it’s not available for rental while you’re there, so that your privacy is ensured.”  
  
“We have nothing to lose by checking it out, right?  And if we decide to stay -”  
  
“You can stay there as long as you like.  Yes. I think it’s a good place. I’m sad that Tony dislikes it so much, because it’s always been a place that makes me feel ... I don’t know.  Whole. Real, is maybe a better word.”  
  
Whaddya think, Buck?”  
  
“How soon can we leave?”  
  
&&&


	2. Can You See What I See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys journey to their new retreat, bond with Happy, and make new friends on the island.
> 
> Intimacy is a challenge, and they learn something unexpected about the Howling Commandos and how they perceived their captain and sergeant.
> 
> Plus, they are adopted by a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I have a fascination for balancing the two eras in which the boys lived. And I almost always try to work in some family history with the boys in the ‘30s and ‘40s. 
> 
> I’ve done that here with the Georges. My step-grandfather was a landscaper who designed the estate for a scientist back in the 1930s - Dr. D. Dr. D was a really cool old guy who would carry me around on his shoulders when he’d come down to the 5-bay garage to see my Pop when us grandkids were underfoot. I learned years later at my grandmother’s funeral that Dr D wasn’t just a talented scientist, he had been the president of DuPont, and DuPont played a significant (sometimes dark) role in WWII. Dr. D probably would have been someone that Howard would have worked with, or competed with. Probably competed with, and since Dr. D was also a Mayflower descendent (seriously, this man’s house was something out of a movie), Howard probably would have been both envious and condescending of Dr. D’s combination of brilliance, success, and old money. Not sure I would’ve thought Dr. D was so cool if I’d known then what I know now about DuPont and its wartime business dealings, but at the time I had no idea he was anything but a scientist, and that was cool enough for me.
> 
> Anyway, the Georges are sort of based on my Pop, his son George, and his grandson ... They went by George and Young George, and the grandson escaped the George curse. In my family, we had Big Jim and Little Jim, which became weird when my brother grew to be taller than my Dad. Junior and Senior never took, so they became Jim and Jimmy. Families have weird ways of differentiating individuals with the same names - it’d be easier to give them each their own name!
> 
> Fun Fact about Pop was he enlisted in the Army in WWII, only to be identified as too old about 6 months later. He didn’t actually know his age, and thought he was a year or two younger. The Army later reconciled his records and discovered he was already 46 at the time of his enlistment, and he received an honorable discharge.
> 
> Oh, and Branagh Island? Not a real place. But the name? It’s my last name in Gaelic.

**Late May/Early June** **  
**  
“Yeah, that would be a no.”  
  
“Happy, we’re perfectly capable of taking the train, or flying commercial, or driving -”

  
“God forbid”, Bucky muttered under his breath, shaking his head at the standoff between Happy Hogan and Steve Rogers.  
  
“That was a one-time thing, Buck,” Steve paused in his battle of wills with Hogan to chastise Bucky.  
  
“You don’t get many chances to crash a tank, Steve,” Bucky shot back with a disbelieving arch of his eyebrow.  
  
“In my defense, it was a German tank.  A Hydra tank. And I hadn’t learned German yet, so I didn’t know what the controls were supposed to do.”  
  
“Wait, you crashed a tank?  A German tank? Was this recently?” Happy demanded worriedly, glancing back and forth between Bucky and Steve.  
  
“No, of course it wasn’t.  After he managed to take out half a forest with his fucking joy ride, nobody in their right mind was letting him behind the wheel of another Army vehicle - and it didn’t matter which damned army it belonged to.  If Happy wants to drive us to Massachusetts, I’m all for it. Anything so I don’t have to deal with your road rage, Steve.”  
  
“It’s not road rage -“  
  
“Look, guys, it’s settled.  I’m driving. If you’re going to Branagh Island, I’m taking you.  It’s my favorite Stark property and I never get to go.”  
  
“I’ve told you before, Happy, you’re welcome to use the cottage whenever you want,” Pepper intervened with a fond smile.  
  
“And you know that Tony doesn’t like it when I just stay there.  But if I’m delivering the fellas here, he can’t complain.”  
  
“You could always try just ignoring him, Hap,” she told him, patting his upper arm affectionately.  “I do.”  
  
“You’re the boss.  You can make him do what you want.  I ignore Tony Stark ... bad things happen.”  
  
“Seriously?  Bad things happen?  He’s Howard’s kid. Of course bad things happen,” Bucky snorted.  “It’s in his genes.”  
  
Happy barely squashed the grin that threatened to spread across his face, and instead presented a stern sort of glare as he surveyed Bucky and Steve.  “So, gents. We’re agreed. I’m driving. We’ll leave at 10, which should put us in Mystic just around lunchtime - there is a clam shack you have got to try.  Sweetest little necks you’ll ever find. Aw, man, I can already feel my waistline expanding, and I just don’t care.”  
  
“Wait, you’re taking us on a food tour, too?  Okay, I’m sold. Steve, from now on, Happy takes us everywhere.  We’ll eat our way through the lower 48, and -“  
  
“Just until we get to Branagh,” Happy corrected, then brightened.  “Well, no, there’s a seafood place right off the Harbor we gotta try.  They do a sea bass you will never forget. Y’know, this might actually be fun,” he added with a grin, then immediately shut it down.  “I’ll stay to get you fellas settled, help you stock up, and then I’ll head back.”  
  
“Wait, are we without transportation while we’re there?”  
  
“Yes,” Happy snapped back.  
  
“No,” Pepper corrected.  
  
“Pepper.  Ms. Potts.  No.”  
  
“Happy, yes.  James, you have a valid drivers’ license, right?”  
  
“Yeah, and I actually know how to drive a car without inserting large plant life into the engine block.”  
  
“Seriously, it was just that one time -”

  
“Fine.  The garage houses a number of cars from Howard’s collection.  The caretaker makes sure they’re in running order. You’ll have the use of the fleet, and of course Mr. Mitsch can always help you with any car services - there’s probably a couple of Lyft or Uber drivers on the island by now.”  
  
“So, can I use -”  
  
“No, Steve,” Bucky interrupted.  
  
“They’re not your cars -”  
  
“I said no, Steve.  What about bikes? Howard have any Harleys lying around?”  
  
Pepper’s smile was sly as she looked over to Happy, whose expression had turned even more sour.    
  
“There might be one.  One that Steve might even find familiar.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“He brought it back with him.  I think he thought he was keeping it safe for you.”  
  
“Why hasn’t Tony said anything?”  
  
“He doesn’t know.  I’d forgotten, to be honest.  When Happy and I discovered it there, we didn’t tell him because we really didn’t know what he’d do about it.  Captain America’s personal motorcycle, direct from the European front. He had some issues where you were concerned, Steve,” Pepper noted.  
  
“I’m aware.  Okay. So Buck gets to use Howard’s car.  I get my bike back. I can keep it, right?”  
  
“It’s yours.”  
  
The look of pure bliss and adoration that spread across Steve’s face took Bucky’s breath away.  He could only dream of having Steve look at him the way he was dreaming about his bike.  
  
&&&  
  
In the end, their departure for Branagh Island was delayed by 24 hours by a series of unexpected hurdles.    
  
First, Maria Hill called Steve down to her office to deliver his discharge papers.  She’d managed to bull her way through Army red tape and stonewalling in record time to secure Steve’s release from indentured servitude to the Army, and with it, a Presidential commendation and handwritten note from the First Lady thanking him for his service.  
  
The fact that this was all happening on Decoration Day - what became Memorial Day after their time, and then a federal Monday holiday after - only made the moment that much more emotional.  Both of them could remember visits to the local cemeteries, Steve to visit the grave of the Dad he never knew, Bucky to visit with uncles, grandparents, ancestors from wars tracing back to the Civil War.  
  
To finally be released from the Army on this day of all others, well, Bucky could see it was a gut punch.  
  
Bucky had suspected this would be an emotional moment, and he was right.  And again, the date and the context made it even more so. After texting Happy that they had a pit stop they couldn’t avoid, he tagged along to bear witness to the event, hug Steve when he broke down, and pat his friend on the back until he stopped hiccuping.  He’d also sent Happy a shot of Steve sniveling over his discharge papers while Hill stood by waiting impatiently for him to get his shit together.  
  
Fun fact:  Steve Rogers is an ugly crier.  Paps never manage to catch him with his schnoz all red and oozing snot, but Bucky ended up with a shoulder of the stuff while Maria stood by dispassionately, holding out a box of tissues for Steve to honk his way through.  
  
Bucky would never admit that he was really touched by the whole thing, and he knew that his secret was safe with Hill - she was never going to cop to the heightened color and glittery eyes betraying her own emotional response, so Buck knew she wasn’t going to rat him out to anyone.  
  
Sure bet Natasha would have already figured them both out, but she was thankfully out of the country on an op with Barton.  
  
Then there was the “Seriously, Cap?” meeting with Stark, in which Stark Fils spent a good half hour reminding Steve of who his friends really were, and why the hell would he want to spend a minute in Howard’s old den of whatever it was he did up there.  While he droned on, Bucky shot another text off to Happy, this time explaining that they’d been Starked and didn’t know when they’d escape. He included a photo of Stark holding forth while Steve looked, well, pretty much shell shocked. Happy had sent back a selfie of himself looking sternly unimpressed.  
  
After Stark had finally wound down and was just staring at Steve judgmentally, Steve shrugged and answered, “I want to paint the sun rising over the ocean.  Can you think of a better place?”  
  
That had actually shut Stark up.  Like, his mouth closed with an audible snap as he stared at Steve, his eyebrows doing some complicated dance over his brown eyes.  
  
Finally, in a small and quiet voice, he asked, “What does a genius billionaire philanthropist need to do to score a Steve Rogers original?”  
  
Steve smiled that smartass smile of his - the one he usually reserved for Wilson or Bucky when he was spoiling for trouble - and answered, “You got a birthday coming up?”  
  
“I think so.  I’ll have to check with Pepper.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“She keeps all my dates straight.  Me, I don’t do time. Except to manipulate it.  Have I told you Bruce and my theories on the quantum realm and the potential for time travel?”  
  
While Bucky would have loved to have stuck around to hear about actual time travel theories from someone who might actually be able to make them work, the idea made Steve’s blue peepers look thoroughly glazed, so they made their excuses to move on, leaving Stark to dream about owning his own Rogers while traversing the time stream.  
  
Next, they were waylaid by Wilson himself, to report that the arts project had met with enthusiastic response from his group, and now he actually needed a project for them to work on.  Bucky grabbed a snap of the two of them confabbing and sent it off to Happy, who replied with an emoji of a storm cloud. Bucky chuckled to himself as Steve put Wilson on permit acquisition detail, and promised to have something drawn up by the weekend.  Bucky knew that since Steve was stuck as a passenger on the ride north, odds were he’d have the design roughed out by Connecticut, and the fine details settled by the time they arrived at the house.  
  
By that time, the day was nearly done, and when they arrived at her office, Pepper informed them that Happy would be waiting downstairs for them tomorrow morning in the private garage, and if they weren’t there by 10 a.m. sharp, he was leaving without them.  
  
“I’d never thought of that as a ploy to get him to take time at the cottage on his own.  But seriously, be there on time or we’ll all have to pay the price.”  
  
Then Steve asked about Tony’s birthday, and Pepper looked up with an alarmed expression.  “Oh God. It was yesterday! Shit, I totally forgot -“  
  
“Well, he did, too,” Bucky pointed out with a shrug.  “Told us to ask you when it was.”  
  
“Do you think he’d believe me if I told him it was next month?” she asked with a hint of panic.  
  
&&&  
  
Since they’d already packed the night before and would’ve been ready to pull out that morning if they hadn’t been repeatedly ambushed, they didn’t really have much to do that evening except wait for the next morning.  
  
So, over takeout ordered from three different restaurants, they sprawled on the couches in their living room, rapidly approaching respective food comas that had the potential to turn into food hangovers in the morning.  
  
Idly thumbing through his notifications, Bucky asked, “So.  How’re you enjoying my links?”  
  
Steve groaned and stretched his arms over his head exposing the soft curve of his overly full tummy.  Bucky’s eyes flicked to the flash of flesh hungrily, but he managed to tear his attention away before it became creepy.  
  
He hoped.  
  
“Definitely fueling the spank bank,” Steve replied with a decidedly shit-eating grin.  
  
“Where the fuck you learn that expression?”  
  
“Comments, I think.”  
  
“You read the comments on the videos?”  
  
“Nah, I think I saw that on the fan fiction.  Also fap material? Language sure is colorful these days.”  
  
“Sez you and your Tijuana Bibles.  Yes, I remember. You and those four-pagers.”  
  
“Those four-pagers helped pay a semester at Pratt. And for my pneumonia that year.”  
  
“Yeah, that was a bad year.  It was good luck you had something put away that winter - yeah.  I remember - I couldn’t get any overtime in the office, and there were no extra shifts on the docks because of the weather.  Anyway, you used to draw porn. Did that do it for you?”  
  
Steve was thoughtful as he dug around the containers looking for something else to nibble on.  “We got any more of those scallion pancakes?”  
  
Bucky looked over the little white boxes filling the coffee table until he found the right one, snagged it, and handed it over to Steve along with a little plastic container of sauce.  Steve busied himself with dipping the little wedge in the sauce, taking a bite, and savoring the flavor.  
  
“You didn’t answer me.  I’m kinda hanging here.”  
  
Steve chewed for a moment before answering.  “Not really. I figured I just got used to it at the time - it was a lot of the same thing, and if it got me hard every time, I wasn’t gonna get much done, y’know?  But thinking back ... no. I don’t think they did do it for me. For one thing, I couldn’t really see myself in the characters, now could I? I didn’t look anything like the guys in those comics.  And no dame - woman - who looked like the women in them was ever gonna give me the time of day. So they were just work.”  
  
“And the links I sent you?” Bucky asked, feeling his interest rising.  He leaned forward, trying to catch Steve’s eye, hold it, convey just how very interested he was in Steve.  
  
“Fuck, yeah,” Steve breathed, turning to look at Bucky with darkened eyes.  Bucky felt lust zip through his body like a flare at sea ripping through the night - hot, bright, impossible to ignore. Then Steve popped another dumpling in his mouth with a grin.  “You sending me more links?”  
  
Bucky wanted desperately to suggest they watch his personally curated collection of links together, on the big screen, sitting very, very close to each other. Preferably touching.  With no clothes on. And plenty of lube.  
  
So of course, that’s when Romanoff chose to send Steve a text, and he changed gears without so much as a blink, leaving Bucky feeling both weirdly exposed and monumentally frustrated.  
  
&&&  
  
Steve insisted on making a pit stop before they rendezvoused with Happy, and Bucky felt a surge of affection for the punk.  
  
Overnight, he’d done a little piece of art, an imagined sunrise over an ocean view, sketched out in ink and colored with colored markers. It wasn’t big, but it was beautiful.  And it was signed, “To my favorite genius billionaire philanthropist, from Steve Rogers.” Bucky snapped a picture of Steve leaving it tucked under Stark’s cheek where it was pressed against his work table.  The idiot had yet again fallen asleep at the drawing board - literally - and was drooling unattractively into some schematics. Bucky nudged the little painting over so it was out of the path of drool, and together they left Stark’s lab to go find Happy.  Then he sent the photo to Pepper and Happy both.  
  
Bucky Barnes loved modern technology.  
  
&&&  
  
The ride out of Manhattan was, as it always was, rife with complaints and shouts of derision as Happy cursed the lives of every cabbie and out of towner standing in his way.  
  
It was, as it always was, vastly entertaining.  
  
And when you added two other native New Yorkers to the mix, the inside of the car was a cacophony of attitude and glee.  Add to that the competitive nature of the three of them, and the car was mayhem.  
  
Tony would have been jealous.  Happy never showed this side of himself to his boss, but he was more than ready to take on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.    
  
Then again, he never drove Tony around in a Mom car, either.  They’d agreed that an SUV was a better option than one of Tony’s limos or high end sports cars.  This way, they wouldn’t draw as much attention, and they could fit more of their stuff, too. Both Steve and Bucky had packed for several weeks away from New York, each of them including leisure activities as well - art supplies for Steve, some books, a spare tablet, and a bag of yarn and various needles for Bucky.  
  
Happy had a small overnight bag.  When pressed by the boys, he admitted the bag contained appropriate summer attire, not another suit.  
  
For the next couple of hours, they teased and taunted each other, played silly car games, and fought over who got to pick the next radio station, until they finally realized they could just command music from the extensive Stark collection, and listen to whatever they liked.    
  
And then Happy just put on what he wanted, anyway, grinning triumphantly at besting his passengers once again.  
  
&&&  
  
“Yeah, I don’t see it.”  
  
“Hap, you don’t have to see anything.  You just need to get them there, and make sure they don’t get overwhelmed with paparazzi on the way.”  
  
“Yeah, but ship?  I mean, I know they’re both attractive guys, and I can see how other guys might find them, you know.  Sexy. But each other? The pair of ‘em are like overgrown toddlers. I swear to God, Pep, I thought I was gonna have to pull the car over and separate them, they were getting up to so much mischief together.”  
  
“Uh-huh.  Like you didn’t give as good as you got,” Pepper Potts observed on the other end of the connection.  
  
“Okay, I admit it.  They’re fun. And since I don’t work for them -”  
  
“You feel more at ease than you do with Tony.  Plus, there’s the whole thing about them not being likely to burn down a city block with a miscalculation.”  
  
“Yeah, there is that,” Happy agreed, glancing over to where Steve and Bucky were sitting at a weather worn picnic table, chowing down on a truly scary amount of fried clams, steamed clams (and melted butter), curly fries, and lobster rolls.  “Where the hell do they put it all?”  
  
“Super soldier metabolisms.  The pair of them go through massive amounts of food.  It’s even worse when Steve’s in the field.”  
  
“Yeah, well, Barnes can match him, bucket load of clams for bucket load of clams.  Hey, I should introduce them to chowder at the next stop. I know a great place that does fish, clam -”  
  
“Are you really planning to eat your way up the East Coast, Hap?  Don’t forget to be careful of your diet - you need to watch your heart.”  
  
“It’s not often I get passengers who don’t need to be coddled when it comes to food. Or who need to watch their waistlines.  Oh. Barnes just messed up Cap’s hair with butter hands.”  
  
“Butter hands?”  
  
“His hands were covered in butter - these two are borderline disgusting, you know?  Seriously, overgrown toddlers. And - oh. Oh,” he interrupted himself, watching Barnes watch Rogers go get cleaned up.  
  
“Oh?” Pepper prompted over the phone.  
  
“Oh, yeah.  I see it now.  Barnes, anyway.  When Cap’s not looking, when he just reacts.  The way he looks at him. Yeah, I see it now.”  
  
“I don’t think James is even aware he’s doing it.  Those boys,” Pepper chuckled.  
  
“Well, if Cap’s not interested, my sister’s boy is available. He and Barnes would make a good match.”  
  
“Don’t go Yenta-ing, Happy.  This trip is to give them a chance to figure out what they are to each other, what they want.”  
  
“Yeah, no, I get that.  And I hope it works out for them both.  But if it doesn’t, and my nephew is still free, I’m totally slipping his number to Barnes.  Think of it as a contingency plan. And okay, I think I gotta go. Rogers just dumped the clam bucket on Barnes’s head. I’ll check in with you after we get there.”  
  
“Happy, keep me posted - if I have to get PR on this -”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Later, Pep!”  
  
&&&  
  
It was early in the season but the local amenities were open, so both Steve and Bucky were able to shower away the butter, clam juice, dirt, and assorted local flora, and change into clean clothes while Happy stood guard.  He’d made it quite clear neither of them was setting foot in the car while they were, as he put it, walking garbage dumps.  
  
Clean but not necessarily chastened, Steve and Bucky trooped back to the car and settled into the back seat where they awaited their reprimand.  
  
“Well, Tony’s done a lot worse.  At least you fellas clean up after yourselves, and make nice with the folks without tossing big bills around.  Got it out of your systems now?”  
  
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Steve answered with a shove of his shoulder against Bucky’s.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll be good.”  
  
“It’s just ... well,” Steve started, then censored himself.  
  
“What?” Happy prompted.  
  
“Being here, being at the ocean, and the food and all ...”  
  
“It reminded us of when we were kids, going to Coney Island.  Yeah, it’s different, but it felt ... it felt kinda the same. And we just ...”  
  
“Act like stupid shits.  Duly noted. Lemme guess, the last time you had a day out like this, you were still teenagers?”  
  
Steve and Bucky exchanged glances, their expressions suddenly sober.    
  
“Yeah.  Summer before my Ma died, that was the last time -”  
  
“Yeah.  We never went back after that,” Bucky said softly.  “Couldn’t afford it, no time ... the world just kept gettin’ in the way.”  
  
Happy was quiet for a moment, taking it in.  He realized that in an odd way, he was privileged.  The world knew so much about these two, and yet ... they knew nothing.  Nothing of the joys and sorrows these boys had shared, the things they’d never had, or had to give up.  He was struck suddenly by how young they both were, really. He huffed a laugh to himself and shook his head.  “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. Just maybe not so messy the next, huh?”  
  
“Sure.  If Bucky can keep his hands to himself, I promise not to dump anything on his head.”  
  
“If I can keep my hands to myself?  You were the one who double-dog-dared me to -”  
  
“Guys, guys!  Let’s not have a repeat performance in the car, huh?”  The pair of them muttered agreement. “Good. Now. Who’s up for frozen custard?  I know a place ...”  
  
&&&  
  
It was dusk by the time they reached the ferry landing, so they stopped in at the seafood shack down the street to have a snack and a couple of beers to wait for the last ferry of the day.  
  
“Now we’re after Memorial Day, the ferry runs more trips and runs later,” their waitress explained.  
  
“That many people going out to Branagh?”  
  
“Ferry does a circuit, Branagh’s only one of the stops.  This time of night, you boys’ll likely be the only passengers, so you’ll get an express.  Top that up?” she asked, nodding toward Bucky’s glass. Bucky nodded with a smile.  
  
“How the heck did Howard find this place, huh?”  
  
“Oh, that’s easy,” Happy answered, closing his eyes in bliss as his lips closed over the sweet meat of another steamer.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Old caretaker was a friend.  Worked for him, I think. One of his team over there.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“Yeah.  I never knew Howard - I didn’t meet Tony until a couple years later.  Rhodes knew him, briefly. But talk to old George, and you get a whole different picture from what Tony says about him.”  
  
“This George - he still around?”  
  
“Huh, yeah far as I know.  He’d gotta be, what - close to a hundred now - oh.  He’s your age.”  
  
“Yeah.  We don’t ... we don’t get to meet many fellas our age, but someone who knew a friend?  Wow,” Steve shook his head in wonder, then drained his glass. “This a local brew?”  
  
“Yeah.  Craft beers are big now, y’know?  There’s a big beer festival not far from here, they do it every summer.”  
  
Bucky looked hopefully toward Steve, who grinned.  “I guess we’ll have to add that to our social calendar. Who knows - maybe we’ll find a brew that gives us a buzz, huh?”  
  
“Geeze, maybe the pair of you should take up making your own,” Happy chuckled to himself, while Steve and Bucky glanced at each other before smiling.  “Just remember who your friends are, huh? I wanna be the first in line to try Cap’s Pale Ale.”  
  
&&&  
  
Old George was fast asleep, but Young George, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his 70s, was waiting at the ferry landing when the boat pulled in and Happy drove off.  Happy and the boys got out of the car to greet the caretaker, and Happy and George gave each other a quick embrace and a back thumping before George handed over the keys and a small box, and Happy turned to introduce Steve and Bucky.  
  
“Captain, Sergeant.  My Dad is looking forward to meeting you both.  Well, again, that is. Dinner at our place tomorrow night - all three of you?”  
  
“Again?” Steve asked as he shook Young George’s hand.  
  
“Dad was in one of the camps liberated by the Howling Commandos, Captain Rogers.  That’s how he met Howard. Howard found out he had a background in chemistry, he offered him a job on his team.  Howard used to tease him he talked about this place so much, Howard had to come here just to shut him up. And then he fell in love with it.”  
  
“Pity young Tony never shared the sentiment,” Happy commented, shaking his head.  
  
“Yeah, I’m surprised he’s kept the place.  But I’m glad he has. It’s a beautiful old place, and it’d be a shame if someone bought it and took it apart.  But hey, you’ll see for yourself shortly, huh. So, dinner? Tomorrow night? All three of you?”  
  
They all agreed, shook hands around once more, and then Happy bundled Steve and Bucky back in the car for the ride to Howard Stark’s private getaway.  
  
The property sat on the other side of the island, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  “Word has it he’d come here every year, after the expedition came back,” Happy explained as he pointed a small remote at the iron gate crossing the road at the edge of the property.  The gate swung inward, and they moved into the property. A small cottage sat back from the road at the next curve, and in the distance, they could see the main house limned in moonlight and framed by wide-trunked trees.  
  
“Expedition?”  
  
“Yeah, to find you.  They’d come back empty-handed, and Howard would sort of spiral.  At least, that’s what Tony said. The one time he came here. I don’t think he has any good memories of those expeditions.”  
  
“Kinda can’t blame him if Howard disappeared after every one of them,” Bucky observed as Happy guided the car up the driveway to the apron in front of the house.  Mellow lights illuminated the wraparound porch, upon which sat a widow’s walk on the second floor. A cone of soft-edged light reached across the gravel and shell driveway.    
  
The house looked substantial and older than Howard’s sojourns there.  The dark stone blocks of the exterior walls spoke of permanence, of many years standing against the weather and time.  “I know Tony grew up feeling like he was competing with a ghost,” Steve responded, craning to take in more of the place as Happy parked the car.  
  
“Yeah, he did.  Really pissed him off when he met you, and you were a genuinely nice guy. He really wanted to hate you, but you made that impossible.”  He turned off the ignition and twisted in the front seat to look at Steve and Bucky. “Shall we?”  
  
&&&  
  
Despite years living in SHIELD-sponsored housing and Avengers Tower, neither Steve nor Bucky were prepared for the house’s combination of space and coziness.  As they prowled the rooms outfitted with furniture and accessories from their own era, they each settled into a level of comfort neither of them knew they’d been missing.  
  
The house was solidly built, New England stone outside, creamy plaster walls and dark stained woodwork throughout.  A huge fireplace in the main room looked inviting despite it being early June. No outlandish shapes or experimental seating filled the rooms - instead, homey braided rugs punctuated the hardwood floors, and solid, well-built furniture grounded the space.  Plentiful windows looked out on moonlit shrubbery and lawn until they got to the back of the house, and they stood at the broad picture window just staring out at the moon reflecting upon a calm stretch of ocean, framed by a backdrop of stars strewn across the night sky, mirrored in the water.  They were far enough from civilization that light pollution was minimal, and combined with the still quality of the water, it seemed like they were suspended in space, surrounded by stars and moonlight.  
  
“Gets me every time,” Happy said quietly, coming up to stand just behind Steve’s shoulder.  “Not as dramatic as the view from Tony’s Malibu place - before or after Killian - but still.  It’s like floating in space this time of night. Sunrise is spectacular, too, like waking up inside a fire.  And this view can be wild in a storm.”  
  
Bucky turned to ask a question, and Happy held up a hand, shaking his head.  “The whole building was reinforced back in Howard’s day. It was everything Pepper could do to convince Tony not to melt the place down to recover the vibranium embedded in the glass.  Up until that time, everyone believed that all the vibranium in the world was contained in your shield, Cap. No one knew that Wakanda was sitting on a mountain full of the stuff. Or that Howard had had a stash of it he never admitted to the Feds.”  
  
Bucky sighed.  “No wonder Tony was so eager to make nice with T’Challa.  I remember Howard being so proud of that shield - he had some story about making the deal of a lifetime to get ahold of the vibranium.  I wonder if he was holding back on us back then, Steve - if he had some more squirreled away after he made your shield. Musta done if he used it in reinforcing the house.”  
  
“You gents might wanna check out Howard’s study.  He kept journals here, about the expeditions, the island.  There might be something there. Coulda been he got more later, who knows.”  
  
“Tony hasn’t read them?  I’d’a thought he -”  
  
Happy shook his head.  “Tony was here all of one time.  This was a good twenty years ago, I think.  Me, I fell in love with the place. Pepper did, too.  It was before they got together, back when he drank more than he slept.  He didn’t need a retreat, he needed a sponsor at that point. But he noticed something off in the way light refracted through this window - me, I never saw it, but I’m not Tony Stark.  And he had this little thing in his pocket that measured light wavelength or something. That’s how he figured it out. But Pepper convinced him not to melt all the windows down. Then he said if he couldn’t take the vibranium with him, he wasn’t interested in anything else in the house. He flew back to New York, but she stuck around, went through the papers, pieced together more of the story.”  
  
“I wish I could say I’m surprised that Howard was such a distant father, but I’m not.  I’m just sorry for the part I played in Howard being so estranged from his son,” Steve said, still looking out the window at the play of light in the sky and in the water.  
  
“Not like you could‘a done anything about it, being popsicled and all,” Bucky chuckled softly.  
  
“Yeah, I know.  I never got to know my Dad, always wondered what he would’a been like if he’d lived.  Tony had his Dad, but he didn’t really did he?”  
  
“Nah.  I’m just glad Tony survived the worst qualities he inherited from Howard.  And while this is lovely hanging with you fellas, I think it’s time for me to become reacquainted with the cottage.”  
  
“You’re not staying here at the house?”  
  
“Nope, I always stay in the cottage.  It’s more my speed. Pepper stays here - she loves to sit on the terrace and watch the sun come up with whatever weird-ass tea she’s drinking that week.”  
  
“Ooh, speaking of tea and stuff - I guess we’ll have to go into town tomorrow for groceries?”  
  
“Place is fully stocked.  Young George takes his role as caretaker very seriously.  You should find the cabinets full and the fridge fully loaded.  Fresh sheets on the beds, etc., etc. He does a great job, y’know?  Always makes this place feel welcoming.”  
  
“Wow, I guess you’re cooking in the morning, Buck.”  
  
“Well, maybe I wanna be fed, Steve.”  
  
“Well -”

“There’s a great diner I like to go to when I’m here.  Wheels up at 9, and I’ll take you boys. If you’re good.”  
  
“Yes, sir, Mr. Hogan, sir,” Bucky laughed, and Steve joined in.    
  
Happy smiled beatifically at them, and nodded.  “That’s what I like to hear, fellas. You have a good night.  I’ll swing by to pick you up in the a.m.”  
  
&&&  
  
Bedrooms were on the second floor, with the master suite overlooking the ocean with floor to ceiling windows that stretched the width of the house.  The view was even more spectacular up here than it was on the main level. They hadn’t decided yet on sleeping arrangements, but upon seeing the view, Bucky didn’t hesitate to let himself out on the widow’s walk, to breathe in the salt air and revel in the soft breezes coming in off the ocean.  Steve stood for a moment, his own breath caught in his throat as he stared at Bucky, outlined in moonlight and gilt in starlight, pressed against the railing so that he looked like he was ready to soar up through the stars.  
  
Steve had always known that Bucky was objectively attractive.  When they were younger, Bucky had fallen easily into the role of good-looking, charming, genuinely nice guy.  The fella everyone wanted to be with. Or be. He was smart, too, and people liked him. It hadn’t been a surprise when he’d won class president back in his senior year in high school.    
  
People had asked back then how could someone like Bucky Barnes choose to spend time with little Steve Rogers.  Prickly, sickly, never on anyone’s top 10 list of fellas they’d like to spend time with. Except for Bucky.  
  
And looking at him now, seeing him at ease and in wonder, Steve was struck again at how lucky he was to have Bucky in his life.  Despite everything fate and Hydra had thrown their way, they were still here, together again, and about to embark on a new adventure together.  
  
And yet, that age old question still haunted him.  
  
Not that he’d ever doubted the friendship of Bucky Barnes.  But ...  
  
“Why me?” Steve asked softly, going through the glass doors to stand by Bucky in the moonlight.  He felt the breeze curl and eddy around him, gently lift his hair to rearrange his bangs, as he waited for Bucky to notice him.  
  
“Why not you?” Bucky replied with a smile, and turned to face Steve.  He rested his forearm on the railing and looked at Steve expectantly.  
  
“All those years ago, when we first became friends.  Why me?”  
  
“Seriously, Steve.  Why not you? All these years later, everything that’s happened, and you still think that you’re somehow not worthy?  Of what? Being my best friend? The one person in the world I’ve always known I could trust, with everything? The one person who’s never let me down - and don’t start in on the train, pal.  But honestly, Steve - how could I not want to be your friend?” Bucky shrugged then, brows drawn together in confusion. “You were always larger than life. Big heart, bigger attitude. Ready to defend anyone without hesitation.  Ready to fight for what’s right. And you always knew.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What was right.  Even if the adults around us didn’t, you did. I figured if I wanted to be on the side of the angels, I needed to be on your side.”  
  
Steve stared at Bucky for a long moment, his mouth agape as he studied him, looking for some sign of a smirk, a ready smile that would tell him that Bucky was joking, but none materialized.  
  
“You really mean that.”  
  
“Of course I do.  So why’d you pick me?”  
  
“Pick you?  You were the only kid who even bothered to talk to me.  No one else wanted to be around the kid who was always sick.  And then the most popular boy in the next grade came over to talk to me, and suddenly, my life changed.  Suddenly, I was okay to be around. Pick you, Buck? You were my savior in so many ways, I can’t even count.”  
  
“Those other kids were stupid,” Bucky declared then, turning back toward the stars.  “They didn’t know what they were missing. I saw you there in the schoolyard, and I just knew I had to be your friend.  I’ve never regretted that decision, Steve.”  
  
“And I’ve never stopped being grateful for that.  I -”  
  
He was cut off by the sudden sound of a dog howling, somewhere near the house.  
  
“What the heck?”  
  
“This island got werewolves?”  
  
“You watch too many movies, Buck.”  
  
“Sounds close - we better check it out.”  
  
And they fell easily into a kind of combat mode, Bucky taking point, Steve covering his flank, as they made their way back down the stairs and across the main level to the source of the sound.  Another howl cut through the night, and they veered toward the front door.  
  
“Think we need to get something silver?” Bucky whispered, a chuckle laced through his voice.  
  
“Think I’m pulling your cable privileges.”  
  
“I’m a modern fella, Steve.  I stream,” Bucky shot back, taking up position next to the front door.  Steve slid to the other side of Bucky, and Bucky nodded once, his hand on the knob.  “Ready?”  
  
“Just open it, jerk.”  
  
“Still a punk, Rogers,” Bucky said as he turned the knob and flung the door open.  
  
They were met by the happy thump of a tail, followed by a whine and a paw scratching at the door.  
  
“Well, hello, beautiful,” Bucky greeted with a grin.  “Who do you belong to, I wonder?”  
  
The dog, a beautiful black and white mixed breed - maybe a collie of some kind - with bright, inquisitive eyes, barked twice and then danced in a circle before it came back to the door and pawed at it.  
  
“Should we let it in?” Steve asked dubiously.  He’d never had a pet of his own. Allergic as a kid, even though he often shared scraps with neighborhood strays right alongside Buck.  And as an adult, there had never been a space in his life for a pet. But the way that Bucky was looking at the dog ...  
  
And Bucky made the decision for them, and opened the door. The dog trotted into the house like it belonged there, walked over to the couch, sniffed at it, then jumped up on it to circle once, twice, three times, and then it settled down and curled in on itself to take a nap.  
  
Bucky’s grin was heartbreaking in its intensity.  The dog likely belonged to someone. It wouldn’t do to get attached.  So Steve did the only sensible thing. He called Young George.  
  
&&&  
  
“Yeah, that’ll be Daisy.  She was brought over by a tenant in the cottage last season, and the assholes just left her here when they decamped.  Kept their deposit and told ‘em they were banned for life when they refused to come get her, poor girl. Been adopted seven, maybe eight times by folks on the island, but she always manages to run away.  First time she’s come knocking, Cap. Think you got yourselves a dog.”  
  
“Won’t her, um, parents?  Won’t they want her back?”  
  
“If she chose you, she’s just gonna run away again.  You might as well face it - you fellas are pet parents now.”  
  
“O-okay.  But ... what do I do with her?”  
  
“You never had a dog before?”  
  
“Never had a pet before.  I - what if she gets hungry?  Or needs to, you know.”  
  
“There’s some roast chicken in the fridge - you can cut some of that up, skin off, for her.”  As George described what he could use for food and water bowls, the best place to walk the dog, and where he should allow the dog to sleep, Steve snuck a glance at Bucky, sitting on the couch next to the dog, petting her head while she looked up at him with an adoring expression matched only by Bucky’s own.  Steve felt a pang at the sight - Bucky had always wanted a pet, and had been the bane of his Ma’s life with all the strays he tried to bring home. She always won those tussles, but that never stopped Buck from sharing a bit of his lunch, or scraps he bought with pennies scrounged from all manner of places.  
  
There’d even been a dog back in London, a sweet-faced stray they’d found near their billet.  Bucky went out every day, spending his ration coupons on treats for the pup, until bombing in their area had made the streets almost impassable until the Home Guard had cleared away the rubble.  When Bucky’d gone out in search of his canine friend, he’d returned a short while later, silent tears tracking down his dusty cheeks. The dog, like many of the civilians in the neighborhood, had been a victim of the Blitz.    
  
Steve realized that he hadn’t seen Bucky smile again while they’d been stationed in London, no matter how much ale or whiskey he packed away.  
  
“Thanks, George.  I think you’re right - she’s adopted us.  I think she might be just the thing we need.”  
  
“Coupla fellas settling down in sweet domesticity, huh?  Dad‘ll be glad to hear that. He’s been worried about you since you woke up, sir.”  
  
“Worried?”  
  
“That they were never gonna let you come home.  I gotta say, I’m glad you chose our island to do it.  Branagh helped Howard Stark. I know it’ll help you both, too.”  
  
“Uh, thanks?”  
  
“So, I told Happy seven at our place tomorrow night.  See you then, right?”  
  
“Yeah. Yes.  Thanks, George.  We’ll see you then.”  
  
Steve hung up and continued to watch Bucky and the dog - Daisy - for a few more moments, thinking about what George had said.  
  
“So?  What’s the verdict?” Bucky asked without taking his attention away from Daisy.  
  
“Her name’s Daisy.  And she’s ours if we want her.”  
  
“What asshole wouldn’t want this sweet girl, huh?  Welcome home, Daisy,” Bucky crooned, leaning forward to kiss her nose, and she eagerly started licking all over his face.  
  
Home, huh?  
  
It just might be.

 

* * *

* * *

&&&  
  
Steve pulled the bowls George described out of the cupboard and looked at them dubiously.    
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“You really think Tony’d be okay with us using the good china to feed a dog?”  
  
“Pretty sure that’s never what Tony Stark would consider the ‘good china’, bub.  ‘Sides, he doesn’t want anything to do with the place, remember? Not even the cars.  Oooh! C’mon, let’s get her fed so we can go look at the cars,” Buck suggested, practically bouncing on his toes.  
  
“You really are a toddler, aren’t you?”  
  
“Guess that makes you a baby, since I’m older.”  
  
“I ... oh, shut up.  Here,” Steve thrust the bowls at Bucky, who happily worked on filling them  for Daisy. The better part of a breast of chicken found itself torn up and piled in the one dish, while the other was filled to the brim from the tap.  Daisy sat primly at Bucky’s feet, watching every movement with unvarnished adoration and impeccable manners.  
  
Steve couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. When they were younger, they could only dream of having a fraction of what they had in this moment.  And in the past few years ... something as simple as sharing food with a gentle dog was beyond anything they could expect in the world.  
  
He’d never expected anything so ... normal.  Once he’d stepped out of Erskine’s chamber, he’d thought normal was out of his reach forever.    
  
But maybe ...  
  
“Okay, she’s a little piglet,” Bucky announced with a chuckle.  “Now, show me the wheels!”  
  
Steve couldn’t help but grin at Bucky’s childlike enthusiasm.  His taste in cars had always run way more expensive than anything they could afford (nothing at all), so this promised to be a fun exploration.  
  
&&&  
  
“Fuck me,” Bucky breathed when the overhead lights flickered on, revealing a pristine garage boasting five bays of immaculate, shimmering cars.  The walls were whitewashed, and the floor was marble - marble! The dark stained wooden doors were each on hinges, opening out into the driveway, and over to the other side was ...  
  
“Oh my God,” Steve breathed.  “She’s perfect.” And suddenly Steve had crossed the massive garage, and was standing next to his bike.  He reverently reached out to touch the seat, surprised at the suppleness of the leather. The Harley had been well used when he’d commandeered it, old enough that Philips hadn’t begrudged him the motorcycle when he’d ridden it back into camp later.  They’d seen a lot of action together over the next couple of years, and she’d taken hit after hit, gotten caught in the backwash of fire more than once. He’d crashed her more than once, and despite Buck’s assertions, nearly every one of those times had been deliberate.  Nearly.  
  
But someone had lovingly restored her to a glory he’d never seen before, chrome shining and leather gleaming, fuselage painted a shimmering deep red.  He glanced down and realized her tires had been replaced with modern equivalents, and he was sure if he straddled her now and flicked the ignition, she’d purr her greetings, entice him once more onto the open road -  
  
“We’re taking this one out tomorrow,” Bucky announced with authority, and his voice snapped Steve out of the fantasy that had been spinning in his head.  
  
“Okay,” Steve agreed.  “But check to see if there’s a sidecar around here - I wanna take my girl out for a spin, and you might as well come along for the ride.”  
  
The grin that Bucky gifted him didn’t make him weak in the knees.  Not really. It’d been a long day, an emotional roller coaster with lots of fried foods.  He was tired, that’s all.  
  
But a part of him vowed to keep doing things to make that smile reappear again and again.  
  
He didn’t question why.  He didn’t have to. It was Bucky.  That was reason enough.  
  
&&&  
  
There was no sidecar to be found, and Bucky was frankly relieved.  The things were uncomfortable at the best of times, and at the worst, he came out with several new holes in his body from loose screws and other assorted torture mechanisms.  Plus ... there just was no way to ride in a motorcycle sidecar and look badass. Or sexy. He didn’t want to look like Steve’s little brother being taken out for a ride - he wanted to entice, enthrall, enrapture.  He wanted Steve to notice him, really notice him, and realize that there really was something there, bubbling beneath the surface, and it was time to let it flow.  
  
And there really were moments, just moments, mind you, where he did sort of feel like Steve might feel some attraction toward him.  Bucky had satisfied himself that he felt something for Steve, more than just curiosity or familiarity. More than brotherly affection.  Sam thought it was love, and Bucky wasn’t ready to rule that out, but he also wasn’t ready to declare it. Whenever Steve heard the words, “I love you,” no matter who said them, they’d damn well better mean them.  110% and then some. And that went double for Bucky.  
  
So Bucky didn’t say those words, because while he knew with total conviction that he loved Steve, he still didn’t know for sure that he was in love with Steve.  He wanted to be. He wanted to give Steve everything, make him feel like a king among kings. Steve, Not Captain America. But he always wanted that for Steve, always had.  It just felt like ... more ... somehow. These days, this modern world so full of possibilities.  
  
He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he was confused, too.  He couldn’t blame Steve for hesitating. He’d almost not even mentioned the idea of the two of them together.  But he looked around this house that had brought Howard Stark some measure of peace, with that beautiful dog and the even more beautiful man sitting on the couch next to her, smiling as he ran his big hand over her brow and head, gently sending the pup into doggy bliss land.  Even if this was all they ever had, it would be worth it.  
  
But he was human.  He hoped for more.  
  
But for now, he was grateful for what they had, and for the days to come absent of war and intrigue.  So he leaned back against the front door and smiled at the profile he loved most. “She likes you,” he said with a smile.  
  
Steve didn’t look up from where he sat petting Daisy, but Bucky could see how his face changed shape, betraying the smile that lit his face.  “She tolerates me, I think. She chose you.”  
  
He shoved off the door with a grunt and a chuckle - a grunckle?  Whatever. “She walked right past me and you when she came in. It’s the couch she really loves.”  
  
“I think you might be right,” Steve replied with a huff.  “Whaddya have to say about that, Miss Daisy? Did you come in just because you like antique furniture, or do you just like antiques in general?”  
  
Bucky snorted at that, but Daisy just shook her head and gave out a little sigh as she put her head down again on her crossed paws, allowing Steve to continue petting her.  
  
“I think she knows she’s made us both her bitches, Steve.  No question who’s in charge here.”  
  
“Yeah, you might be right about that, too.  Geeze, was it only this morning we were still living in Avengers Tower?  Seems like a lifetime ago already.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m gonna take the luggage upstairs.  We can wrestle over who gets which room, yeah?”  
  
“Oh, I’ll help.  I think her majesty is out for the night,” Steve said, and got up carefully so he wouldn’t jostle the dog.  Bucky shrugged and gathered up his own bags, while Steve grabbed his luggage and nodded toward the stairs. “After you.”  
  
“You just wanna watch my ass going up the stairs.”  And Bucky really hoped that was true. He knew he had a great ass.  He always had, but his ass was especially fine now.  
  
And he was gratified at the cherry red stain to Steve’s skin, and the funny gurgling noise he was making. So sue him if he put a little more Irish into his walk dragging his bags up to the second floor.  
  
Bucky paused at the landing where the second floor split into the master bedroom on the seaward side, and the other bedrooms to the lea.  “Who’s taking what?”  
  
“Well, you wanted to see the sunrise from the master bed, why don’t you take that one?”  
  
“But you wanted to paint from there -“  
  
“Yeah, but I can do that when you’re up -“  
  
“So why don’t we share?  The bed’s big enough?” Bucky suggested, tamping down the sudden racing of his heart, the blossoming expectation and hope.  
  
“Um, ah ... yeah, sure.  Bed’s big enough. We’ve shared before -“  
  
“I get my best night’s sleep when you’re nearby.  You help -“  
  
“Keep the nightmares away.  Yeah, you do, too. Yeah, let’s share.  We can watch the sunrise together.”  
  
&&&  
  
They didn’t unpack completely, but they each got out sleep clothes and toiletries so they could each shower and then settle into bed.  Even the en suite had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bluff and the ocean below. And while it was not as tricked out as the showers in the Tower, it was still decadently appointed, with generous water pressure and enough space for the pair of them to dance the Lindy Hop without ever hitting a wall.  
  
Bucky encouraged Steve to take his shower first while he investigated the remaining amenities on the floor.  Bucky had finished his exploration by the time Steve came out of the bathroom, skin pink and gleaming, hair darkened by dampness, his tee hugging every dip and muscle on that delectable torso, his sleep pants slung low on his hips.  
  
Bucky’s mouth went suddenly dry.  
  
Steve was beautiful.  Not just in an art you admire in a museum way, but in a visceral, knock the breath out of you, I’m gonna die if I don’t kiss you kind of way.  
  
“You okay, Buck?  You look kinda off.  Maybe we should get a snack before bed, huh?”  
  
“Steve, we ate our way up the East Coast, and then chowed down again.  Are you seriously hungry again?”  
  
Steve did that bashful tuck of his head, hand scrubbing the back on his neck in that endearing “Aw, shucks, ma‘am,” way he used to use on Sister John Garabaldi when he wanted to get out of detention for fighting in the schoolyard.  Bucky was wise to his games, but he was feeling a bit hungry, too, so he might as well encourage Steve if Steve was gonna get some food anyway.  
  
“Okay.  Make enough for two.  I’m gonna hit the shower while you get the grub, okay?”  
  
“There’s no other showers on this floor?”  
  
“Steve, there are seven other bedrooms, and each of them has their own shower.  But this one is the only shower with actual stars. I am not missing out on that. Now, chop chop, you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!”  
  
Steve grinned and hopped to, leaving Bucky with the vision of his sculpted back and pert ass as he made his way out of the master suite.  Bucky had to shake his head and will down the chubbing in his shorts at the sight. Damn, but that boy was gonna be the death of him.  
  
&&&  
  
By the time Bucky finally tore himself away from water pressure, stars, and more water pressure, Steve had returned with a tray of sandwiches and a couple of cold beers from the larder laid in by Young George.  
  
“Gave her majesty another chunk of chicken,” Steve announced with a smile.  
  
“We’ll need to get some proper dog food in for her tomorrow.  We can, ah, take the car for shopping, but the bike for exploring,” Bucky suggested, then sank his teeth into a delicious chicken sandwich.  Lettuce, tomato, some of those sliced gherkins, and a healthy dollop of mayonnaise. He grinned wide at Steve, keeping his mouth closed.  
  
“Glad you’re enjoying it.  Did you find the sidecar?”  
  
“I am not riding in a sidecar like some damsel in distress.  We can both fit on the seat. I’ll just hang on. It’ll be fun.  Nothing we haven’t done before, right?”  
  
“Um, yeah.  Right. Yeah,” he agreed thoughtfully, and went back to packing away a sandwich or three.  
  
&&&  
  
When they’d finished, Bucky volunteered to take their dishes back to the kitchen, since Steve had made the snack.  That left Steve to make one last pass at brushing his teeth, and then he settled into the bed, grabbing his tablet as he did.  
  
With a start, he realized that with the pair of them sharing the bed, his nightly routine was going to have to change.  There’d be no reading of sexy fanfic, watching Bucky’s curated porn links, and definitely no jacking off three or four times before he melted into the bed in a boneless, nearly brainless state.  
  
He wondered if he’d sleep half as well as he’d been doing since he’d started enjoying Buck’s suggestions.  
  
And he tamped down the frisson of annoyance and frustration that he wasn’t going to have that me time he’d come to value and enjoy so much lately.  
  
Were they going to share a bed for the duration?  
  
Was Steve looking at a summer of blue balls?  
  
Or was sharing a bed going to lead to something else, something new?  
  
He felt an odd sort of panic welling up, and so he resolutely reopened the ebook he’d started reading before Buck’s first links had arrived.  He could be normal, he could read stuff that didn’t involve dicks and rimming and lube. Really, he could.  
  
He didn’t want to, but he could.  
  
&&&  
  
The bedroom lights were off by the time Bucky got back, but the room wasn’t really dark.  Steve’s face was illuminated by the reflection of his tablet, and the moonlight and starlight suffused the space with a mellow glow.  Bucky stood at the doorway just looking. It was beautiful in its own way. Not Steve beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless.  
  
He smiled to himself as he walked through to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth, both eager and terrified to join Steve in bed.  They slept in the same bed often, a habit they had resurrected from before. They’d frequently shared a bed as kids, but as adults they’d done it in winter to help keep them both warm, Steve more than Bucky.  And on the front, it was Steve who’d kept Bucky warm when they’d slept rough. And since Buck had been back, there had been nightmares, night terrors, moments of ice and pain where one of them held the other through the night.  Some nights it was Bucky. Some nights it was Steve. After the first time or two, they’d always known they’d be welcomed into the bed of the other.

There had never been anything sexual, nothing untoward in those moments.  They were practical choices made in response to the cold, outside and within.  And Steve and Bucky had always trusted one another, so there’d been no concern, no fear, no judgment.  
  
This was the first time they’d be sharing a bed since Bucky had expressed interest in a more physical relationship.  
  
So did sharing a bed still mean the same thing, or was there new possibility hanging in the air?  
  
As Bucky slid into bed, he scooted closer to the middle, closer to Steve.  Steve glanced over and smiled, so Bucky moved a little closer still.  
  
“Watching my links?” he asked softly.  
  
Steve stiffened, and in the reflected light of the tablet screen, Bucky could see the blush rise quickly on Steve’s face.  “N-no, of course not,” Steve stammered. “I mean, I’m not alone, I’d feel funny -“  
  
Bucky reached out to steady Steve, and said, “You know, we could watch them together, maybe help each other out -“  
  
Steve jerked away, the expression on his face a mask of shock.  “Buck -“  
  
Bucky pulled his hand back, held both up in surrender.  He felt his face shift into an encouraging smile, just joking, ha-ha, nothing to worry about here, even as he felt embarrassment burning through him.  
  
Steve’s mouth moved but no words came out.  Bucky didn’t feel like engaging in that moment, so he patted Steve’s shoulder and murmured good night, rolled over toward the outer edge of the bed, and grabbed one of the many pillows on the bed to press his face into.  He felt a scream rising up his throat; he needed to silence it before it broke free.  
  
He could feel the confusion and consternation coming off Steve in palpable waves, could feel the bed shift slightly as Steve moved to reach over at Bucky.    
  
Everything felt all wrong in that moment, and he knew he needed to get away, needed to nurse his hurt in private.  Needed an escape plan -  
  
“Oh, crap!  I forgot to take the dog out one last time. I’ll go take care of that right now,” he announced as he bounced back out of bed, grabbed his shoes, and took off before Steve could get a word out.  
  
&&&  
  
Steve listened to Bucky’s retreat and felt the urge to hurl himself out the window into the ocean below.    
  
He’d seen the look in Bucky’s eyes before he’d masked it.  Before he’d put on the smile and the charm. And now he was left wondering how many times in the past had he done something stupid, something hurtful, and Bucky had just pulled a mask over his hurt so Steve wouldn’t have to feel guilty.  
  
Because that’s how Steve felt right then.  Guilty. He’d reacted badly to Bucky’s suggestion, and he wasn’t sure why.  He’d half expected some kind of overture, some approach or suggestion. Truth was, he’d’ve been disappointed if Bucky hadn’t at least acknowledged the fact they were in bed together, and the possibilities that presented.  
  
And Bucky had been gentle, sweet even.    
  
Yet Steve acted like he’d been burned.  Like the feel of Bucky’s hand on his skin was something terrible.  
  
It wasn’t.  It was Bucky.  
  
Steve turned the tablet off and set it on the bedside table, then slid down in bed to listen.  He did hear the door open, Bucky encourage the dog, a questioning bark, the door close.  
  
A while later, he heard the sounds in reverse, heard Bucky’s footfalls on the stairs, one, two, pause.    
  
The pause dragged on for longer than he expected, and Steve found himself straining to hear the next footfall.  
  
And he couldn’t describe the disappointment and shame he felt when the next footfall was going back down the stairs.    
  
Bucky didn’t come back to the bedroom that night; Steve slept fitfully, anxiously, but he wasn’t sure what he needed to say to make it right, so he stayed where he was.  
  
In the morning, Steve watched the spectacular sunrise, his mind immediately sketching out how he’d capture it, the size of the canvas, and how he’d get it to Tony as a real thank you.  He knew he was delaying the inevitable, and he knew he was being selfish, laying in bed alone, watching the sunrise Bucky had wanted to share with him.  
  
He shook himself, quickly took care of his morning business, and then he crept down the stairs and saw Bucky curled up on the couch, Daisy cuddled up close and circled by Bucky’s arms.  Steve had to smile at the doggy grin on Daisy’s face, and the sweet half smile on Bucky’s as he snuffled and shifted, tightening his hold on the dog.  
  
Steve felt something shift inside him, but he wasn’t sure what it meant.  He just knew that he’d screwed up with the one person who deserved everything from him, and he was going to have to find a way to make it right.    
  
Steve quietly tried to make coffee without waking Bucky, but it didn’t take long for Steve to realize that Buck was awake now, just avoiding the conversation that needed to come.  Steve brought the coffee over to the couch and nudged Bucky’s feet out of the way so he could sit down.  
  
“I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward.”  
  
Bucky accepted the mug as the peace offering it was meant to be. Daisy, however, seemed affronted to have her human disturbed, and hopped off the couch to investigate the food bowl in the interim.  “I shouldn’t have pushed.”  
  
“You didn’t push.  You just suggested.  And I reacted poorly.  And I guess I’m not quite ready for that.  For that level of intimacy.”  
  
Bucky turned his attention to the mug in his hands, took a sip, and remained silent for a while.  The air felt heavy, pressing in on Steve until he felt like he might buckle under its weight. And then finally, Bucky asked in a small, quiet voice, “Do you think you ever will be?”  
  
An honest question deserved an honest answer.  “I don’t know. It’s what we’re here to figure out. We have time, don’t we?  I mean, it doesn’t have to be all settled today, right? I just need you to be patient with me.  Just a little longer, okay? Can you give me that time, Buck?”  
  
“Time I got, pal,” Bucky answered with a soft smile.  As Daisy looked up mournfully from her empty food bowl, Bucky shook his head.  “How about you rustle up some grub for her ladyship, and I’ll take her out, huh? Then we gotta get ready for Happy.  That’s a man who never has time.”  
  
&&&  
  
“So.  What’s with you two, huh?  Yesterday, you’re bright as two new pennies.  Today you’re not even a plugged nickel. Howard’s ghost keep you up all night?”  
  
“Howard’s ghost?” Bucky asked with a faint chuckle.  
  
“Guy spent so much of his time here after the war, figure there’s gotta be something left floating around, huh?”  
  
“You don’t believe in ghosts, Hap.”  
  
“I don’t not believe in ‘em.  You never know. So it pays to keep an open mind, y’know?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“So.  What’s got the pair of you so glum, chums?  Figured you’d both be bouncing like over caffeinated toddlers again today.”  
  
“First, not enough caffeine yet.”  
  
“And second, neither of us slept well last night.”  
  
“What, you don’t like the place?”  
  
“Bad dreams.  Sometimes a new environment, no matter how nice -“  
  
“Ah.  Say no more. You fellas gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah.  We should be back to normal in a day or so.  The dog‘ll help.”  
  
“Aw, that’s nice.  You bring along your little stuffie?”  
  
“No.  It’s a real dog. Name’s Daisy.  George said she was abandoned by some people who rented your cottage. She showed up on our doorstep last night and moved right in.  George says she’s ours now.”  
  
“First of all, which George?  Young or old? And second, hell no.  No dogs.”  
  
“Young.  Why not?”  
  
“Because Tony doesn’t like dogs.”  
  
“Tony hates this place and is never coming back.”  
  
“It’s the principle.”  
  
“I think we should let Pepper decide.  She’s the one who gave us permission to stay here after all,” Steve said as he whipped out his StarkPhone and thumbed the direct line to Pepper Potts.  
  
“No, that’s not fair.  I can’t dial that fast.  You have an unfair advantage over me -“  
  
“He’s literally like 60 years older than you, Happy.  And 50 of those he was impersonating an iceberg.”  
  
“Yeah, but he’s a super -“  
  
“Pepper!  Thanks for taking my call.  Can I put you on speaker?”  
  
“What, he knows how to turn on the speaker on that thing -“  
  
“He’s really pretty tech savvy.  Don’t tell Tony.”  
  
“So what can I do for you, Steve?”  
  
“Buck and I wanted to know if you’d be okay with us having a dog.  There’s a pretty pup name of Daisy who was abandoned -“  
  
“Oh, Young George told me about her.  Those horrible people. They’re banned from the place and I understand the harbormaster has banned them from the island.  They’re never getting any perks from Stark Industries, I can tell you. So you met her?”  
  
“She’s moved in with us.  George - Young George - says she chose us so we belong to her now.”  
  
“Oh, that’s wonderful!  A dog will do you both a world of good -“  
  
“Pepper.  Miss Potts, Pep - I object -“  
  
“Of course you do, Happy.  Why?”  
  
“Well, dogs shed.”  
  
“Many of them do, yes.  Steve, James, there’s a Swiffer in the broom closet.  That should be sufficient for you to clean up any dog hair.  Next, Happy?”  
  
“Toenails.  Damage the hardwood floor.”  
  
“Reaching.  Next?”  
  
“Tony doesn’t like dogs.”  
  
“Tony doesn’t not like dogs.  He’s actually indifferent to dogs.  And he hates the place so much, he’d probably applaud if Daisy took a dump in the middle of Howard’s study.  That all y’got, Hap?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Fine. Enjoy your dog, boys.  Is that all?”  
  
“For now,” Steve shrugged, struggling to keep the “hah!” look off his face.  
  
Bucky didn’t even try.  
  
“Great.  Have fun, boys.  Oh, and Tony says thank you for the Rogers original.  He was really stupidly pleased until I showed him Bucky’s photo.  Then he asked to get them both framed together. I’m going to go run the world’s largest tech company now, okay?”  
  
Buck snorted at that, clapping his metal hand over his mouth to stifle any further social commentary.  They all heard Pepper’s giggle and farewell.  
  
“So, you got a dog,” Happy noted morosely.  
  
“And we need to get her some supplies. When you drop us off, we’ll take one of Howard’s cars out to hit the grocery store.  I’m thinking the Corniche. Whaddya say, Steve?”  
  
“Well, I say it’s not a problem for me to take you.  You don’t know your way around the island, I do. We’ll go right after this, and then I’ll drop you off.  Then I’ll pick you up for dinner with the Georges.”  
  
“Hap, that’s not necessary.  Pepper said we could use the cars, and we want to do some exploring -“  
  
“No.  I mean ... I mean no.  No means ... no. No driving Howard’s cars while I’m still on the island.  My heart couldn’t take it.”  
  
“You have a heart condition?”  
  
“I do, yes.  I have an actual condition.  And it would not survive seeing the Star Spangled Man who crashed a tank driving one of Howard’s classics.”  
  
“I would be the one driving,” Bucky pointed out reasonably.  
  
“That’s not any better.  In fact, it might be worse.  Yeah, it’s definitely worse.”  
  
Steve shot Bucky a triumphant smile, which Bucky returned with a grimace.  Steve raised him a bark of laughter, and not to be outdone, Bucky clapped Steve on the back and practically shoved his face into his eggs.  When Steve elbowed Bucky and Bucky retaliated with a wet willie, Happy just shook his head. “You guys. Most fearsome assassin in the history of assassining.  The first Avenger. Hero to like five generations of kids or some such shit. And me. You were my hero, Steve.”  
  
“Were?”  
  
“And then I met you.  Never meet your heroes, Steve.  That’s my philosophy now. Because you ... you’re a little shit in a big ass body.”  
  
“Welcome to my world,” Bucky commented with a grin, and shoveled a heaping forkful of pancakes into his mouth.  
  
“He always been a little shit?”  
  
“Always.  His Ma used to complain he was a little shit in the womb.”  
  
“She did not!”  
  
“She told me you were constantly raisin’ a ruckus.  Couldn’t wait to break out, start causin’ trouble.”  
  
“Okay, yeah, that sounds like Ma.”  
  
Happy watched the exchange between them with a bemused expression, eyes darting from side to side as if he was watching a match of some kind.  A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth as he observed the tension draining out of the two soldiers out of time, as the teasing and banter seemed to reset them back into the normal ebb and flow that was Bucky and Steve.  
  
His job here was done. Except for the chauffeuring.  And the making sure neither of them defaced a landmark or created any new vehicle-based performance art.  
  
It was like being on an actual vacation.  These fellas were a breeze compared to Tony Stark.  
  
&&&  
  
Happy‘s tour by car took them around the perimeter of the island, then tacked inward to show off some of the small shopping districts contained within the tiny towns. For two boys born and raised in the congested streets of New York, the place was sparsely populated, empty by city standards.  And yet, as they rubbernecked from the SUV, Steve and Bucky each commented to the other how much they were looking forward to wandering the byways and backroads of Branagh.  
  
Happy took them to the local grocery store, a locally owned establishment that boasted national brands brought over from the mainland by ship and occasional plane, augmented by locally grown produce and island-raised animals slaughtered and dressed by the island butchers.  
  
It was a precarious economic eco-system, and living on Branagh wasn’t cheap.  A lot of raw materials and all manufactured items had to be brought across by ship, and the months between October and April tended to see far fewer trips because of storms and ice.  The people of Branagh knew how to plan and how to husband resources.  
  
Still, the island boasted the fishing port, several small towns, a number of farms, a vineyard, even a meadery, and a brewery of its own, as well a thriving artist colony.  Each of the towns hosted small shops, many of which catered to the tourists who filled the island in the summer months, but many of them were permanent as well, providing necessities and luxuries both.  
  
“So, pick you up at 6:30 sharp.  Dress nice, gents. The Georges put on a good spread.  I know I don’t have to tell you to bring your appetites, now do I?”  
  
“Hah.  Never. Should we apologize in advance, or should we bring extra?”  
  
“Neither.  Remember, Old George remembers you both from the war.  Young George told me they’ve laid in enough to satisfy even you.  But that beer we got? Bring that. I’ve got a couple of bottles of wine Ms. Potts sent up.  We’ll have plenty. Now get the heck out of here - I wanna get back to the cottage and take a nap while I got the chance, okay?”  
  
&&&  
  
“Yeah, my Dad, George, Senior, landscaped the place back in the 1920s.  Rich family, scientist like Howard, but old money - Mayflower money. Dr. D disowned his children over bad hooch and disreputable women, kept Dad on as his caretaker and foreman.  So when he passed, there were no heirs. Place sat empty for a few years until I came home from the war, but Dad kept it up. Then Howard came up from New York for the weekend, called old Dr. D’s lawyer, and bought it on the spot.  Dad was thrilled to spruce up the landscaping, keep working as caretaker. The job’s been in the family three generations. Little George’ll take over next, I guess.”  
  
“Little George?” Steve repeated, chuckling.  “So wait, your Dad was George, Senior, you’re Old George, you’re Young George, and there’s a Little George, too?”  
  
“Yeah.  He’s not so little.  Six foot three, actually.  It’s all kinda stupid, I guess.  A habit. He couldn’t make it tonight, and he was spitting over that.  Stuck in Boston at a conference. He’s dying to meet you both. But enough about us - how’re you fellas settling in, huh? How’s Daisy doin’?”  
  
“She’s taken over.  Gotta feelin’ she’s gonna be takin’ over the master bedroom before long,” Bucky answered with a grin.  
  
“Well, that would settle who gets it,” Steve observed softly, and Bucky turned to look at him, grunting a reply.    
  
They were out on the deck, illuminated by strings of fairy lights and the first inklings of dusk.  No one noticed the burning of Steve’s cheeks, but he was all too aware when he shot a glance at Bucky’s pointed look.  
  
But Old George just chuckled to himself.  “Figured you boys would appreciate the size of Howard’s old bed.  The mattress and box spring are new, mind you, but the bed was his.  He loved to lay it in and watch the sun come up over the ocean. How’d’you like that view, fellas?”  
  
“Um ...”  
  
“I, um, I watched it this morning.  It was spectacular.”  
  
“How ‘bout you, Sarge?  Or are you a late sleeper?”  
  
“I was asleep on the couch.  With Daisy.”  
  
“You fellas have a spat already?”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A spat.  I mean, you are together, right?  I mean, the fellas - the Commandos - they all thought, so I did, Howard even ...” Old George trailed off uncertainly.  
  
“Thought what?” Steve asked, almost afraid of what Old George was hinting at.  
  
“They, we, we all thought ... you were a couple.  You know. Romantically.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Uh,” Old George replied, his eyes going wide as his jaw dropped open.  
  
Steve blinked, glanced over at Bucky, whose eyebrow seemed to be elevated with a tone of judgment.  A glance at Happy revealed a relaxed smile, maybe a bit expectant, but no surprise.  
  
“Everyone thought that Buck and me were ... lovers?”  
  
“I take it by your shock, Captain, that everyone got it wrong, huh?” Young George asked gently.  Old George’s hand trembled slightly, and Young George laid his hand over it to steady his father.    
  
“Um, well ...” Steve really didn’t know how to answer the question without seeming to take a side, a side he wasn’t yet prepared to take.  He was relieved when Buck answered for him.  
  
“Not then, no.  And now ... still no.  But you know, Old George ... I think I do remember you.  My memory’s not what it was - seventy years of Hydra’ll do that to a fella - but weren’t you Jacques’ buddy?  You were - you were in demolitions, too. I remember Dernier asked if he could keep you, like you were a puppy or something.”  
  
Old George chuckled fondly, and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate.  “Yep. You fellas liberated me and my unit, and a lot of other Allied soldiers.  I met up with Jacques when he was placing charges, and volunteered to help. We remained friends until he passed, God rest him.  We spoke the same language, y’know?”  
  
“Howard used to talk about the pair of you, you know.  When he first got here, he was badly shaken. So was Dad here.  I was born after the War, but I remember some of Howard’s visits.”  
  
“They call it PTSD nowadays.  Back then, we called it shell shock.  He came here to hide it away, so no one would see the great Howard Stark shivering and shaking fit to break his teeth.    The Jarvises would come with him sometimes. Edwin and Ana would come first, get the place ready, and then Howard would fly in at night.  Property’s got a landing strip down on the beach. It’d be days before anyone saw him. Sometimes he’d just call and I’d meet him at the landing strip, help take care of him until he felt more himself.  I saw some horrible things. I can’t begin to imagine what Howard saw. Or what - well, coming here seemed to help. He’d come back a couple of times a year at the beginning, sometimes every other month.  It tailed off as the years went by. By the ‘70s, he came maybe once, twice a year. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years by the time he and the Missus passed.”  
  
“He didn’t bring his family here, huh?” Bucky asked, filling up his plate again.  
  
“No.  I don’t think he wanted anyone else here, didn’t want anyone else to see him when he was ... well, I guess we thought of it as weak back then.  But, vulnerable. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.”  
  
“It’s a good place.  A healing place. You’ll do well here.  Maybe you’ll even think about staying?” Young George suggested hopefully.  
  
“What’s there to do all year round?” Bucky questioned, then shoved a forkful of delicious food into his mouth.  
  
Young George chuckled.  “Might seem like a sleepy nowhere place, but I promise you, we know how to have a good time here on Branagh.  But I was thinkin’, if you do decide to stay, we could use a couple of smart fellas at our school.”  
  
“School.”  
  
“Yeah, as you can imagine, we have a hard time getting teachers to come out and live here.  And the weather gets too choppy or hard to allow our kids to commute to the mainland. Some folks have their kids in private schools in Massachusetts or Rhode Island . I think one or two even send their kids to New Hampshire and Maine.  But for the most part, our kids go to our island school.”  
  
“Yeah, but neither of us graduated college.  I mean, we both started, but neither of us finished.  We certainly don’t have teaching credentials.”  
  
“Well, we have an arrangement with the Commonwealth Department of Education.  Because of our unique situation. There’s an online certification you could take.  If you were interested.”  
  
Happy chuckled.  “Mr. Rogers. Name’s got a ring to it.”  
  
Steve grimaced.  “I gotta feeling I’m missing that reference.”  
  
Young George grinned.  “Got an e-mail address?  I’ll send you some links.”  
  
At the mention of links, Steve couldn’t help the way his eyes tracked back to Bucky, who grinned at him.  “Steve likes links. He finds the internet so helpful.”  
  
“Yes, I do. I’m always in the market for more links, Buck.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Really.”  
  
“I’ll remember that.  Send me the links on Mr. Rogers, too, will ya, Young George?”  
  
“You fellas think you might stay?” Happy asked dubiously.  
  
“We only just got here.  But ... it doesn’t hurt to keep our options open for the moment, does it?  I only just got my discharge. I haven’t really thought about life after the Army.  After the Avengers.”  
  
“You settin’ down the shield?  Really?”  
  
Steve drew in a long breath through his nose, held it, then released it slowly.  “Keeping my options open. But thinking about cutting back, maybe. We’ll see. We’re here to try to figure it out.”  
  
“Well, anything we can do to help, just say the word.  We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the pair of you. It’d be nice to return at least some small measure of that favor.”  
  
&&&  
  
Back at the house, Steve suggested that Bucky take the master bedroom, enjoy the sunrise in all its glory.  Bucky accepted the offer with a sad smile, nodded, and whistled for Daisy to follow. But later, when they’d both settled in for the night, Steve had to smile at the links that arrived in his mailbox.  Not just Young George’s links on Fred Rogers, but Bucky’s latest recommendations on fan fiction and video.  
  
With a happy sigh, Steve settled in to sample Bucky’s latest offerings.  
  
&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re enjoying your stay in the pine forest! 
> 
> If you follow me on social media at all (debwalsh on Tumblr, debwalshweb on Twitter, debwalshweb on Instagram), you’ve seen me post a kazillion pictures of my cats. I love cats. But it’s a little known fact that I also love dogs. I just don’t have any because see above, cats. So it’s been a joy getting to know Daisy. I actually created her character when I was trying to write this story for last year’s CapRBB, and she just kind of stuck around. Then worked her way into my heart, and ended up becoming an important character in her own right.
> 
> You know the drill! Would love to hear what you think!


	3. If They Could See Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which celebrations are had, discoveries are made, and decisions press in on Steve.
> 
> Plus volleyball on the beach. Super soldier style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really fed into my love of balancing Steve and Bucky between the eras of their lives. I love connecting them to their pasts, at the same time opening the doors to their present and especially their future.

**Early July** **  
**  
By the time summer officially dawned, Steve and Bucky were no longer the newcomers, and were fast passing out of the category of “summer people.”  There was a steady influx of day trippers and AirBnB folks, but they had a tendency to live at the edges of life on the island, observing rather than living.  
  
Steve and Bucky were eager to be a part of the rhythm of Branagh.  Every morning, Steve ran down to the port and their favorite coffee shop, a quaint place done up for tourists, but which the islanders cherished as one of the true jewels of the island.  Every morning, Steve picked up sinfully flavored coffees and rich buttery croissants to take home to Bucky - always with an extra dog biscuit made specially for Daisy in the bag.  
  
After Steve’s first disastrous attempt to run home with coffee and pastries - leaving him mostly covered in flavored coffee that Bucky had offered to lick off, much to Steve’s embarrassment - Bucky had rigged him a self-leveling backpack from one of his bags and stuff he found in Howard’s old workshop.  The inner bag sat on a gimbal that shifted and tilted with Steve’s motions, while the insulated interior hugged the coffee cups in a cradle of memory foam held secure inside the bag. Bucky had been really proud of his invention, and had excitedly snapped pix and sent them along to Sam and Tony, requesting confirmation that this was a marketable idea worthy of patent.  
  
Sam shot back that there was only person dumb enough to jog with cups of hot coffee, so there was an audience of one for the product, hardly worth the cost of the patent application.  
  
Tony, on the other hand, noted there might be aerospace, and even extraterrestrial application should the space program get its collective ass in gear, or Stark Industries decided to go interstellar.  He promised to turn the pix over to Pepper for further consideration.  
  
The next pic to arrive on Sam’s phone was a photoset of Bucky sticking his tongue out, and in the next frame, kissing a picture of Tony Stark.  
  
Sam immediately texted back, “Gonna tell yr man ur cheating cheater.”  
  
Bucky responded, “???”  
  
FLIGHTLESS BIRD:  u telling me steev not jealous type?  
BUCKY WITH THE GREAT HAIR:  wouldn’t know  
FLIGHTLESS BIRD:  still???  
BUCKY WITH THE GREAT HAIR: giving him his space  
FLIGHTLESS BIRD: u ok w that?  
BUCKY WITH THE GREAT HAIR: got no choice  
FLIGHTLESS BIRD:  yeah u do  
  
The dots on Bucky’s phone floated and fretted until Sam finally stopped typing and the next text came through.  
  
FLIGHTLESS BIRD:  mayb u shd find sum1 else  
  
Bucky tossed the phone at the sofa and left the room.  A minute later, he came back into the living room, rescued his phone from the couch cushions, and tried to shove it in his back pocket, but his short shorts were too tight and it wouldn’t slide into the pocket. He shrugged, went back to Howard’s workshop, and came back out with a phone pouch hung around his neck.  
  
Now he could ignore Sam’s unhelpful suggestions in style.  
  
More than a week later, he was still ignoring Sam’s suggestions.  They were still unhelpful, too. It had only been a few weeks since they’d arrived, just under a month, and Steve hadn’t actually come out and said he was disgusted by the idea of them together, even if he hadn’t said he was really interested, either.  
  
And Bucky continued to send him links - fan fiction, not just about them, but characters from TV, movies, and even games they liked.  And video links. Bucky had popped for a couple of subscriptions, so he shared his passwords with Steve and guided him toward videos that particularly, well, did it for him.  He kept hoping that Steve would do more than solo appreciate his selections, but so far, that was a wall he hadn’t been able to break through.  
  
But ... Steve had started sending him links recently.  Fan art. Lots and lots of fan art. Digital, traditional, photo manips, charcoal sketches.  
  
So many perfect renditions of Steve’s dick had him salivating as well as other bodily responses.  His need to see Steve’s dick in the flesh was growing exponentially. He didn’t need fan art.  
  
He needed to see the real thing.  Needed so much more ...  
  
And the way the artists drew them ... doing things.  Wow. And yes, please. He wanted all that. With Steve.    
  
He searched Steve’s face for evidence of what he wanted, but so far, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing clues, or his own desires mirrored back at him.  
  
Some days, he thought he could sense the beginnings of desire.  
  
Some days, he felt that what they had would have to be enough, because it was all he could hope for.  And it wasn’t shabby, what they had. He just wanted more.  
  
On this day, he was sitting on the back terrace, staring out over the swells out on the horizon, waiting for Steve to get back from his run with his favorite coffee and pastries from town.  The sun had risen a couple of hours ago, and it was low tide now, so the waves only danced at the edge of the shore below. By early afternoon, the waves would be rushing up the toward the house and the rock wall below.  
  
Beside him, Daisy sat with her head in his lap, tongue lolling as she looked up at him adoringly.  He glanced down and smiled fondly. He couldn’t imagine the past few weeks without her. She was cheerleader, princess, arbiter, and buffer.  Her presence gave both him and Steve a distraction when things got too weird, or strayed too close to uncomfortable.  
  
When things got bad - and they sometimes did - she seemed to have an instinct that led her to crawl into his lap, press her cold doggie nose against some patch of exposed flesh, and generally lend all her doggie kindness and love to whoever needed it.  Steve had availed himself of her canine support once or twice, too.  
  
In many ways, she was Bucky’s dog, but she was Steve’s, too.  
  
Some days, Bucky was tempted to send those fuckers who left her behind a fruit basket.  He still hadn’t decided if if would also have a grenade in lieu of a pineapple, but whatever.  
  
Daisy was a part of them now.  Whether they stayed here, went back to New York, or pitched a yurt in Siberia, she was coming with them.  They were their own weird little family.  
  
They’d been on the island nearly a month now.  June was nearly done, and Steve’s birthday was looming just ahead.  They’d decided that everyone on the team needed a glimpse of life beyond superheroing, and they’d invited them all to join them next week for the holiday - barbecue on the beach, fireworks over the harbor, and a bit of a birthday bash.  The house was more than big enough to put everyone up, and the pair of them were both neatniks since childhood, thanks to their Moms, so there wasn’t much to do to get the house ready.  
  
The Georges were over the moon about helping out, even Little George had got in on the action.  He was in his mid-thirties, a good-natured guy with a love and understanding of flowers and native plant life that was encyclopedic without being boring.  He was good-looking too, and Bucky would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t noticed the muscles on the guy, or the glow of health that shone through his tanned skin.  Or the little side glances that seemed to communicate interest. Little George also harbored an adoration of Howard’s car collection, and was the George who cared for the fleet these days.  So they were getting to know each other in worship of Howard’s outstanding vehicular taste. And Bucky had the strong impression there could be more if he chose to accept it.  
  
But for Steve’s and the country’s birthday, invitations had been sent to their old friends in New York, and their new friends on Branagh.  
  
Not surprisingly, Tony had quietly demurred, claiming prior commitments, whatever the hell that meant.  But Happy and Pepper were coming, along with Sam, Bruce, Nat, and Clint. Even Hill and Peggy’s niece had accepted, so it promised to be a good time.  Thor was somewhere on the other side of the Bifrost, but the other day they’d found a smoking Celtic sigil burned into the sand, and in its center, a crate of Asgardian ale.  
  
So, yeah, it was definitely something to look forward to.  Even if Tony didn’t want to join them. He wondered if Tony would continue to hate the place if Bucky and Steve decided they wanted to buy it, put down roots permanently.  They’d mentioned it once or twice, just an idea put out in the universe in passing, but the idea held appeal.  
  
A lot of appeal.  
  
Even more if what he hoped would happen between him and Steve really did become reality.  Of course, there was more hope than reality on that front so far ...  
  
“Hi, honey, I’m home!” he heard Steve’s voice carry from the house.  It was silly and it was cheesy, but once Steve had managed to make it all the way back without spilling the coffee and making himself into a thorough mess (thanks to Bucky’s innovation), he’d taken to greeting Bucky this way when he entered the house.  
  
Bucky secretly loved it, and wished it were said in sincerity, not silliness.  
  
“Out here!  Miss Daisy’s waiting for her treats!” he called, not bothering to look back to see if Steve was coming.  
  
One truth they never lost is that wherever the one of them was, the other would always follow.  Even if it took 70 years.  
  
“Hey, so they’re trying some new flavors at the bakery, so I got a couple of everything.  Hope that’s okay,” Steve announced as Daisy abandoned Bucky to dance around Steve’s legs, barking hopefully for the treats she knew must be in the bag.  
  
“Fickle female,” Bucky grumbled with a grin, lifting his metal hand so that Steve would place his coffee in it.  They’d graduated to metal thermal mugs with screw on lids and insulated walls from the paper cups of the early trips.  So the coffee wouldn’t burn his skin if he’d offered his flesh hand. But Bucky was trying to use his prosthetic hand more for mundane tasks, to maintain his dexterity and improve his emotional relationship with the arm.  And Steve was less likely to hesitate pressing a hot coffee in his hand when it was never going to get burned.  
  
“Think we’re gonna need a bigger carrier soon.  They’re introducing some new combinations - thought i could bring back some samples in addition to your regular,” Steve announced, shoved the travel mug into Bucky’s outreached hand, and then came around to drop down next to him on the bench.  He put the bag - a huge bag today - between them. Daisy trotted around and stuck her nose right in the bag, causing them both to laugh.  
  
“She’s impatient like you!  I thought she had better manners when she first arrived,” Steve chuckled, snatching the bag back to fish out the smaller bag just for Daisy.  He held out a fresh baked treat in the shape of a bone, and she opened her mouth for him to give it to her. Once she had it, she retired to the corner of the terrace, where she laid down and started gnawing at it, the picture of canine bliss.  
  
“I’ll have you know I’m the most patient person you know,” Bucky corrected, rooting around the bag for something that struck his fancy.  He plucked out a muffin with purplish berries. “Is that mulberry?”  
  
“Yeah.  I had a sample back at the shop.  So good.”  
  
Bucky took a bite and moaned as the sweet fruit burst over his tongue.  “Oh my God! We got more of these?”  
  
“I bought them out.  They’ll only have them for a few days, apparently.  Fruit’s too fragile to keep, so they gotta use the berries pretty much as they pick them.”  
  
“I might take up running just so I can grab these for myself.  What time do they open in the morning?”  
  
“See?  Impatient.”  
  
“Only when it comes to food!  In every other aspect of our relationship, I am the soul of patience,” Bucky countered, grinning.  
  
Steve looked at him then and nodded.  “Yeah, you are,” he said quietly, his expression suddenly wistful.    
  
Bucky’s breath caught, his heart rate suddenly spiked, and he wondered if this was the moment when hope broke through to reality?  
  
“I, um ...” Bucky flailed, feeling a frown draw his eyebrows together.  
  
“I want you to know how much I appreciate that, Buck.  So much so, I’m gonna let you have the last mulberry muffin!” he declared as he pulled the muffin out of the bag with a flourish and handed it to Bucky.  
  
Well, it wasn’t what he was hoping for.  But as a consolation prize, the muffin was just that good.  
  
&&&  
  
The team arrived the day before the picnic, with Clint piloting the Quinjet that touched down on the landing strip that jutted out into the ocean, terminating just below the house.  Daisy had started barking a few minutes earlier, dancing around and demanding their attention at the back terrace, so Steve and Bucky had followed her to stare out over the retaining wall.  They caught sight of the Quinjet on approach, and hurried to take the path down to the beach. They were standing on the stone steps waiting when everyone deplaned.  
  
Everyone was in civilian gear, ranging from loose khakis on Bruce to worn-in cargo shorts on Clint.  Even Nat was in summer clothes, a light cotton camisole over comfortable jeans, and Hill shocked them all with a bright patterned halter over short-shorts showcasing long, tanned legs and bright white tennis shoes.  It was a homey, sweet reunion, not superheroes and colleagues, but friends. The appearance of Nick Fury in a Hawaiian shirt, black shorts, and leather thong sandals was a sight none of them would forget soon. Pepper, crisp and bright in a striped cotton romper and sandals, came right over and kissed both Steve and Bucky on their cheeks, beaming at them affectionately.  
  
“Haven’t burned the place down yet, I see,” Happy commented as he paused to clap Steve on the shoulder before grabbing Pepper’s luggage to take it back up to the house.  He had swapped his ubiquitous suits for a polo shirt and slacks. He’d even left his standard frown at the door, giving the boys a wink and a grin as he passed.  
  
“We figured you’d want the master bedroom, so I moved into one of the others -“ Bucky started, but Pepper turned her smile into a frown.    
  
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.  I’ll take one of the other bedrooms.  This is your home now. At least, I hope that’s true.  Island life suits you,” she added, taking in their comfortable clothes, longer hair, facial scruff, and generally relaxed demeanors.  “And this must be the famous Daisy!” she greeted the dog, and that was that.  
  
Sam waved on his way by them on the stairs, hefting a cooler that he introduced simply as, “Brooklyn Bagel run.”  
  
Bucky immediately felt himself drooling.  Island food was incredible - fresh seafood, fruit and veggies right off the farm, locally dressed meats, even their beloved coffee shop pastries.  But nothing compared to a proper New York bagel. Bucky dove for the cooler at the same time Steve did, both competing for who got to carry the grail up the stairs, but Sam just laughed and trotted up the stairs leaving them in his wake.  
  
Everyone settled in at the house, with Happy again taking the cottage.  They’d agreed earlier that Bruce would also stay in the cottage, preserving his chill and providing an escape should his anxiety get the better of him.  The whole group agreed they’d relax for the afternoon, then pile into Howard’s cars around dusk to drive into town for a proper New England meal at the clam shack. The gang would get to meet some of their island friends tonight, too, and it promised to be a good time.    
  
As everyone went to their rooms (or the cottage) to drop off their stuff and whatever, Steve and Bucky stood in their living room and smiled at each other.  This felt right. They’d debated about opening Howard’s house up to a crowd, but when they’d broached the subject with Pepper, she’d been thrilled. And it seemed the right thing to do, to celebrate with friends from their old lives, alongside the friends of their new one.  And to do it around Steve’s unfortunately scheduled birthday was just a bonus.  
  
Daisy pawed at Bucky’s leg and he dropped down to her level, rubbing her silky head.  “You got some new fans, doll. Now, howzabout you’n’me cuddle up for a nap, too, gorgeous?”  He stood and looked at Steve for a moment, teetering on asking him if he was coming, too, but then just smiled, and made his way to the stairs with Daisy leading the way.  
  
&&&    
  
The fourth dawned clear and bright, warm but with a nice breeze and relatively low humidity considering they were surrounded by water.  The gang started to wander down to the beach fairly early in the morning, and Steve was happy to be reunited with his running partner after so many aweeks running solo.  When Steve donned his Bucky-designed carryall to make the run to the coffee shop, Sam doubled over laughing. But when Steve handed him one of his own to put on, he looked like he was going to deck the Man with the Plan.    
  
“I need help bringing back coffee for everyone.  Buck can’t make it through the day without his special, so I can’t punish him ‘cos we got guests.  So you’re helping.”  
  
“You and Barnes are doing all right, huh?” Sam said as he shrugged on the backpack.    
  
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding.  “We’re getting the hang of this retirement stuff.”  
  
“Yeah?  That’s good.  I’m happy for you, man.  Thought you’d never put down the shield.  I’m proud of you,” Sam replied with genuine sincerity.  “And your relationship?” he added, bending down to stretch.    
  
“Yeah, we’re doing good.  Buck and I always did good together.  We’ve been roommates before - before the war, then sometimes we billeted together on the front. At the tower.  This is just a different place with a different rhythm. We’re still the same.”  
  
“Roommates, huh?” Sam repeated doubtfully as he straightened.  
  
“Yeah, roommates.”  At the pointed way that Sam looked at Steve, Steve tilted his head, brows furrowed for a moment before he realized what Sam’s question really was.  “That’s right, you guys talked about Buck’s idea.”  
  
“Idea.  Yeah, that’s what it was.  So, you two ... you’re a thing?  You’re not a thing?”  
  
“I guess the short answer is we’re not a thing.  I’m still trying to figure out what it is I want, I guess.  I’m happy with how things are, but I know that Buck wants more.  I just don’t know if I’m the guy to give it to him.”  
  
“That’s fair.  But, y’know, don’t let it drag out.  It’ll get bigger than it needs to be if you let it go on too long.”  
  
“Yeah.  I know. I just ... I wanna do it right, y’know?” Steve said as they started to trot down the driveway.  
  
“Just remember that right doesn’t have to be perfect.  If you decide you and Barnes have a future like that, he’ll take you as you are - you don’t need to change anything.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.  Now - you ready to sweat?”  
  
“Oh, bring it the fuck on, Rogers!”  
  
And off they ran.  
  
&&&  
  
After Sam and Steve got back from town, set out all the coffee and pastries, Sam snagged his, moaned over how good it was, and then retired to his en suite to bask in the world’s most perfect shower.  At least that’s what he claimed.  
  
Pepper was delighted by this comparison, telling the others that she always enjoyed staying at Howard’s retreat, and she was so pleased to see it finally get used the way it should be.  
  
“These are ... wow,” Bruce commented on the muffin he was devouring.  “Is that mulberry?”  
  
“Yep,” Steve confirmed, popping the “p.”  “We buy them out every day. Buck and I are addicted.  Don’t know what we’re gonna do when mulberry season is over.”  
  
“Starve,” Bucky replied around a mouthful of muffin.  
  
“You should cultivate your own,” Bruce replied, licking the purple stains off his fingers.  “You can grow the dwarf variety inside - some will fruit all year.”  
  
“We’re starting a greenhouse,” Bucky announced, and reached for the last mulberry muffin.  
  
Bruce looked him in the eye and growled.  “I’ll teach you how ... if you hand over the muffin.”  
  
&&&  
  
As the morning slid into afternoon, friends from the island started to pull into the huge driveway in front of the five-bay garage, so folks started filtering down to the beach.  Daisy was left in the house so she wouldn’t get caught in the crush, and she barked her displeasure at every car to arrive and every person who passed by the house.  
  
Down at the beach level, Sam carried a volleyball and net from the Quinjet sitting on the causeway, and at Steve’s raised eyebrow, he answered, “You got a beach. Volleyball must be played.  It’s the law.”  
  
Steve just chuckled and stepped out of Sam’s way.  
  
Pepper wandered around with her StarkPhone, live streaming to Tony, who drowned her out with AC/DC at eardrum crushing levels.  
  
When the Georges, all three generations of them, and Young George’s wife arrived, Steve and Bucky offered to carry Old George down to the beach level.  Pepper asked them why when they had a perfectly serviceable elevator. She then showed them the elevator they’d missed in nearly a month of living in the house.  It was just off the big garage, tucked into a corner they passed every day but never noticed. From that point on, the elevator was given heavy use transporting people, food, chairs, kegs, and everything else they’d need to picnic on the beach.  
  
Clint, Fury, Sharon, and Happy commandeered the grills, and took over food prep while Steve and Bucky set up the tables, chairs, and benches for people to sit at.  Sam made sure the volleyball net was properly anchored, and started circulating through the guests to secure participants for two teams, to play after the food and before the food coma.  
  
Bucky took command of the rank of beer kegs, laughingly filling orders as people sidled up with cups.  Next to the kegs was a big bin with a hand lettered sign in large letters - “We recycle!” A few of the guests, Little George included, clustered around the beer kegs, and soon, Bucky was drawn into conversation with more of the island friends they’d made.  In his tank top, his longish hair drawn back in a messy bun, his scruff, his shorts, and his flip flops, Bucky looked like any other millennial enjoying a party. Steve saw his prosthetic arm on full display, no effort to mask or camouflage it, and he felt a pang of pride.  
  
Sure, Bucky’s therapist had encouraged him to stop hiding the arm and embrace it for what it did for him.  And yes, Shuri was inordinately proud of the vibranium arm and the technological breakthroughs it contained.  And yes, Tony Stark’s fingers still itched whenever Bucky was around, his desire to dismantle and study evident in the way his eyes tracked even small movements of Bucky’s left hand and arm.  
  
But to watch Bucky own it, feel comfortable with it, even show it off ... that was huge, and Steve had an inkling what that cost Bucky to get to that point.  
  
Standing off to the side of the ebb and flow of people in search of drinks and food, Steve took a sip from his beer - not to get drunk, but to enjoy the taste.  They’d crack open the Asgardian ale later, but for now, he was just enjoying a frosty brew like a normal person. He sighed deeply, noting the friends they’d made already on the island blending seamlessly with his old teammates.  And seeing the garrulous, charming, social Bucky Barnes making a reappearance ... well, this was some birthday.  
  
“Barnes, huh?  Thought I knew what he meant to you.  Guess I was wrong,” Nat said, coming up behind him with a cup of her own.  
  
Steve smiled down at her.  He’d missed her, and they hadn’t been in touch much since he and Buck moved to Branagh.  She’d been out of the country on a long mission with Clint, and then when they got back, she’d been recovering from a nasty gut shot she’d picked up on the road.  He lifted his arm to put it around her shoulders and squeeze, and she leaned into him. “How so?”  
  
“Well, it’s one thing to be roomies in the tower.  Quite another to run away to domestic bliss.”  
  
“That what you think this is?”  
  
“You gonna tell me it’s not?”  
  
Steve sighed, and took his arm off her shoulders. He took a pull from his beer, and shook his head.  “I don’t know what it is. Buck ... well, he’s said what he wants. As for me ... I don’t know. I thought this would help me figure it out, but I’m still as confused and conflicted as I was in New York.”  
  
“It’s okay to be confused.  Just ... don’t leave him waiting too long.  It’s not fair to him, and it’s not good for your friendship.”  
  
“I know.  I don’t want to let him down, but at the same time ... I’m just not sure.  I don’t want to throw everything we got away on something that isn’t real, y’know?”  
  
“But you don’t want to say no if there’s a chance.  I get it, Steve. But is it fair to keep him in limbo forever?” she asked, nodding toward where Bucky was talking with Little George.  There was a light about him, the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched over something Little George said. And the way that Little George leaned toward Bucky, his eyes tracking the movement of Bucky’s lips ...  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Barnes is a good looking guy.  He’s a catch, to be honest. Not that you aren’t.  But if you aren’t interested, there are others who are,” she added, nodding toward Little George.  
  
Steve stared at Bucky and LIttle George, took another sip of his beer, and sighed again.  “I don’t wanna hold Buck back. But ... I just don’t know.”  
  
“What’ve you guys done?”  
  
“Whaddya mean?”  
  
“Make out, hand jobs, oral?”  
  
“None of the above?”  
  
“Okay, so dates?  Kissing? Holding hands?”  
  
“Still none of the above.”  
  
“Well, how can you know what you want if you don’t try anything?”  
  
“We share links.”  
  
“Links.  
  
“Yeah.  Fan fiction.  About us. And TV and voice characters.  It’s called -“  
  
“Slash, yeah, I know.  it’s a popular type of pop culture literature.  And I’ve been known to indulge a time or two. So Bucky sends you fan fiction links.  Mind forwarding some?”  
  
“To?”  
  
“Me.  It’d be interesting to see what you both consider worthy.  Plus, pretty boys, sexy times, decent writing - I could do worse.  But is that all you do? Send links back and forth?”  
  
“Um, not just fan fiction.  Fan art. I started sending Buck fan art links.”  
  
“Juicy stuff?”  
  
“Some of it is quite graphic, yes,” Steve answered, color rising on his face as he shifted from foot to foot.  
  
“This is embarrassing you.”  
  
“Yeah.  Kinda. I mean, we’re standing here at a barbecue, talking sex.”  
  
“We’re really not.  We’re talking about links.  Not content. But it’s a sweet kind of courtship, don’t you think?  Each of you sharing a bit of yourself? Things that move you in some way.”  
  
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Steve stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as his color tipped over into the danger zone.  
  
“Porn.  You boys are sharing porn.  Oh my God. Wait til Tony hears this!”  
  
“Nat!  No! You can’t tell Tony -“  
  
“What’s it worth to you, Rogers, to keep your secret?  Captain America likes porn -“  
  
“Captain America is a job. Steve Rogers likes porn -‘  
  
“Is it gay porn?  Seriously? Do you watch it together?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“So you send links back and forth, fan fiction and fan art. And share porn links.  You don’t watch together. Do you discuss any of it?“  
  
“No.”  
  
“None of it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Do you discuss any of it?  Bucky’s attraction, your feelings about it.  Your own attraction?”  
  
“No.”    
  
“Steve. Don’t you think you should?  I mean, how are you ever going to figure anything out if you don’t?  Don’t you owe it to each other to do that?”  
  
Steve glanced over again to where Bucky was still talking with Little George, unable to tear his eyes away for a long moment.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“No maybe, Steve.  You’re just spinning around in your own head.  You need to talk with him. Really talk. And then maybe you can figure out what it is you want.  What you can be. Or what you can’t be.”  
  
Steve sighed again, this time long and slow, his attention still focused on Bucky.  
  
“Unless you’re afraid of what you’ll find?”  
  
He really didn’t have an answer for that.  
  
&&&    
  
The group ebbed and flowed throughout the afternoon, clusters forming, growing, reconfiguring, dissolving, and reforming in new configurations.  Music played through the sound system Bucky had hooked up to his StarkPhone, his curated playlist running through the decades between their youths to the present day.  A couple of times, a certain song would come on, and Bucky would just grin and grab the person closest to him and start dancing. Men, women, old, young, it didn’t matter.  When the mood hit, he danced, drawing his partner into the spotlight with him. It was great to see him enjoying himself, open and in the moment. He’d lost none of his skill as a dancer over the years, and was possibly even better than Steve remembered from the old dance halls.    
  
He was beautiful, and he brought that beauty into the world and nurtured it, shared it, and let it go.  
  
It was breathtaking.  
  
Steve couldn’t help tracking where Buck was most of the time - there was something about his presence that always drew him, held him, ever since they’d first met all those years ago.  His true north, his guiding star.  
  
That wasn’t to say that Steve ignored their guests.  He didn’t. He mingled, he chatted, he laughed at people’s jokes, accepted birthday wishes from all comers, and cooed over pictures of their grandkids, home improvement projects, and pets. He felt like he was in an ever-changing river, caught in eddies and undertows, drawn along and washed up along the way, only to be captured in the current and carried away again.  
  
Island folk and Avenger folk seemed to blend and coalesce seamlessly, and the lack of incongruence struck Steve as both odd and comforting.  Like it really was possible for him to transition from being an Avenger to being just Steve, but not lose his old friends in the process.  
  
He realized that was something that he wanted, and it surprised him how much he did.  He’d never really thought of himself as giving up the shield once Howard handed it to him.  But somehow coming here, to the place where Howard had come to heal all those years ago, he’d found the will to make it happen.  More, he found the forgiveness in himself to let it happen.  
  
“Hey, we’re goin’ up to grab some more food from the fridge topside.  Need anything?”  
  
Steve turned to find himself looking at Bucky’s smiling and flushed face.  His eyes sparkled and his smile seemed permanently alight. With a frisson of surprise, he realized ”we” was Bucky and Little George, who stood behind him, his own expression bright and happy.  Steve felt a sudden stab of annoyance, and he didn’t understand where it was coming from. He pursed his lips and shook his head, trying to clear the odd emotion away. Buck was still standing there, eyebrows raised expectantly.  
  
Steve refocused and answered Buck directly.  “Uh, no, I don’t think so. What’re you getting?”  
  
Bucky was looking at him oddly, but whatever he saw, he seemed to choose to ignore it, just as Steve had.  “Could use another keg, we’re getting low on potato salad and regular salad, figure another watermelon or two wouldn’t hurt.  This is a hungry crowd! Glad we stocked up!”  
  
“You sure you can handle it, just the two of you?” he glanced over Bucky’s shoulder to look pointedly at Little George.  Un-enhanced newcomer Little George.  
  
But Bucky was speaking, and that sucked Steve’s attention back to him immediately.  “Gonna grab the dolly, we’ll just stack it. Okay, back in a few. C’mon, EllGee,” Bucky called as he trotted toward the recently discovered elevator.  
  
“Right behind you, Buck,” Little George said, and the pair of them quickly disappeared into the rock face.  
  
EllGee? Buck?  When had they become such good friends?  
  
And why was he not surprised to find Natasha a few feet away, sucking her colada up through a straw, her eyebrow arched challengingly?    
  
“Uh-huh,” she commented with a smirk.  
  
“Whatever,” Steve groused, and turned away to dive back into the throng.  He was the host, after all.  
  
&&&  
  
Bucky and Little George’s return laden with beer, food, and not one, not two, but three watermelons was met with a cheer.  Clint took command of one watermelon while Bucky took another, and the pair of them did a show of knife throwing and blade work to carve and cut the fruit.  In the meantime, Nat had grabbed the third, sliced it in half, and proceeded to carve it like a pumpkin. A few minutes later, she pushed one half carved in the shape of an Iron Man helmet, the other like Cap’s shield, and a bowl full of melon balls.  
  
“Shit, Tash.  I think you won,” Clint observed, his eyebrows trying to merge with his hairline while everyone around her just stared, whistled, or reached for melon balls.  
  
She stood there with one hand on her hip, the other burnishing her nails against her top, grinning smugly.  
  
“Lady of hidden talents,” Steve commented.  
  
“Knife skills were a requirement in the Red Room.  I just found a fun, non-lethal way to apply them.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“I haven’t lost my edge, Rogers.  I can still make you feel it if I choose to interrogate you.”  
  
Steve snorted.  “Noted. Now hand over that shield, huh?  Let’s see how she balances.”  
  
Natasha grinned a pleased grin at him, and nudged the watermelon rind shield at Steve so he could play with it.  
  
Damn, he’d missed her sass.  
  
&&&  
  
Not long after the impromptu watermelon carving contest, Sam announced it was time for beach volleyball.  He demanded tribute from the assembled partygoers, and soon two teams were formed. Bucky and Little George were on the same side of the net, facing off against Sam’s team that included Pepper, Sharon, and Hill.  Clint and Fury were currently on grill rotation, but they catcalled and hooted from their stations. Happy stood off the side, observing, as did Bruce. Steve begged off, insisted he was just watching. He didn’t say it out loud, but he told himself that it wasn’t fair for him to compete with un-enhanced humans, even as he enjoyed watching Bucky play.  He could tell that Buck was holding back, keeping his native strength contained, and using his prosthetic arm at a mere fraction of its potential.  
  
But as the game wore on, Bucky and Little George seemed to be forming a good team, an awareness of each other spatially that seemed to echo the way that Steve and Bucky had always moved around each other.  Steve couldn’t really explain what he was feeling - he was afraid to examine it too closely, but suddenly he felt the urge to play, too. He could contain himself just as well as Bucky could. He trotted over to the game and called out to Sam, “Need another pair of hands?”  
  
“Get your damned ass in here, Rogers!”  
  
Steve joined the game, and started focusing primarily on Bucky.  Before long the game devolved to the two them competing directly with each other.  At one point, Bucky even leapt into the air, grabbed the upper support on the net, and swung himself in an arc before spiking the ball back at Steve, then launched himself into the air to land on his feet next to Little George, whose eyes were nearly bugging out of his head at the same time his mouth was open, obviously drooling.  
  
Steve had the visceral need to break something right then, and shot up to bounce the ball off his head, let it drop down so Sam could tap it, then pirouetted in the air to spike the ball over the net with the flat of his hand.  
  
The ball started to move back and forth across the net at such great speed and force that everyone else just took a step back to let the game play out between the two super soldiers.  Neither of them were holding back at this point, and volleys were nearly supersonic. The crowd backed away from the area of the net, some people looking genuinely alarmed at the force behind the serves and spikes.  
  
Letting go and using his full strength to compete with Bucky felt incredible. Steve couldn’t get enough of it.  The gleam in Bucky’s eyes told him he felt the same.  
  
Steve’s focus narrowed down to Bucky and Bucky only as he leapt in the air again and smacked the ball down in a powerful thrust.  Bucky dove for the ball and spiked it with both fists, launching it more than thirty feet in the air before it plummeted beachward again.  Bucky rocketed up to meet it on its downward trajectory, gouts of sand erupted around him from the force of his jump. He slammed the ball back over the net, directly into Steve’s gut, and sent him skidding back across the sand on his ass.  
  
That hurt.  It was like taking a bazooka shell to the gut, with the added fillip of a sandburned ass, with a dollop of public humiliation.  
  
It. Was. On.  
  
The ball hadn’t hit the ground yet, even if Steve had, so it was still in play, even if they were breaking rules of volleyball almost constantly now.  Buck was looking right at him when he tossed the ball up in the air, surged to his feet, and delivered a two-fisted serve that had the ball soaring overhead and down into an arc that had Bucky running and leaping over guests to get the ball before it touched down.  Steve was dimly aware of some kind of crashing noise before he heard the faint whistle of a projectile bearing down on him, at the same time Bucky rushed back toward the net. Steve was about to propel himself up to punch the ball when a big green fist intercepted the ball at the same time a deep, gruff voice shouted, “Enough!”  
  
Steve and Bucky turned in unison to see Bruce Banner in mid-transformation, the ball held in his meaty hands as he was already de-Hulking.  In a few seconds, he was back to himself, earning “ooohs” and “aaaahs” and a scattering of muttering.  
  
“Guys, enough,” Bruce repeated, looking pained. He never liked anyone to see him transform - he hated becoming the Hulk.  And he’d felt the need to do both of those things because of Steve and Bucky.  
  
Because of Steve.  
  
As the adrenaline in his system began to ebb, Steve realized that he and Bucky had been so focused on besting each other, they’d lost sight of the safety of their guests. That Steve had lost sight.  Steve had put his guests in danger.  
  
It was a scary moment to realize that the Hulk posed a lesser threat to civilians than Steve Rogers playing volleyball with Bucky Barnes.  
  
“Point to Bruce!” Bucky cried as he leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing a little hard.  
  
Steve couldn’t help but grin a little.  His adrenaline high might be fading, but he could still feel the endorphins flooding his system, an unexpected and welcome burn in his muscles, and an almost breathless feeling from being pushed to his limit.  
  
He loved it.  
  
Even as his fair skin burned with shame.  
  
Even then.  
  
And that was something he needed to examine, he knew. A surreptitious glance around him told him there were several people who’d see to it, even as Bucky was accepting Little George’s hand to straighten.  Even as Bucky turned away from him to clap Little George’s shoulder, laughing bright and clear.  
  
But first, damage control.  “Sorry, folks, got a little carried away!” Then he bowed to Sam, waved him back to the net, and stepped off to the side.  
  
“Damned straight,” Sam muttered darkly, coming back to the net.  The other players did, too, although he noticed Bucky turning away from the net with another pat to Little George’s shoulder.  Little George grabbed Bucky’s wrist and leaned in to say something, his lips obscured by Bucky’s hair. Steve didn’t have a chance to eavesdrop because Sam was talking to him.  “You, me, we’re gonna have a sit-down chat about you and your boy, Steve. Plan on it. Now get the hell away from my net, Rogers.”  
  
&&&

* * *

* * *

Steve shuffled off the “court” area, and dropped down on the sand, his back against the rock face.  He drew up his knees and draped an arm across them as he used his other hand to wipe away the sweat that still dripped into his eyes.  The ball was already in play, his and Bucky’s battle royale already forgotten as players leapt and dove for the ball as it ricocheted over the net and back again.  A powerful serve, a mighty spike, a spray of sand as a body skidded across the sand, a two-fisted pop, a dance and a spin and the ball was back in play.  
  
It was pretty entertaining, but Steve found his eyes roaming in search of Bucky, and came up empty.  He could see Little George jockeying for position as the ball sailed over the net again, but Bucky wasn’t playing any longer.  
  
Suddenly he felt something cold and wet pressed against the back of his neck, trickling down between his shoulder blades.  
  
“What the fuck!” he exclaimed, jerking forward.  A rich, dark chuckle answered him as a body thudded to the ground next to him.  
  
“Here.  Think you earned this.”  
  
“This” was a frosty bottle of Asgardian ale, held in Bucky’s hand as he shoved it into Steve’s.  
  
Steve knocked the cap off and took a long pull from the bottle, sighing with pleasure as the cold brew sluiced down his throat.  “Thanks,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
They sat side by side in the sand, silently knocking back their drinks, pausing to clink bottles when someone executed a particularly spectacular combination at the net.  
  
“Y’know ... we’ve never done anything like that before,” Bucky said, his eyes still on the “court.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like play.  This century.  Since the serums.  We’ve worked out, we’ve sparred, we’ve prepped for missions.  Shit, we’ve had each other’s backs on missions. But we’ve never just played.  Just messed around and had a good time together for its own sake. Pushed ourselves just for the fun of it.  And it was fun. We should do more of it.”  
  
Steve leaned forward and crossed his arms over his knees, considering Bucky’s words a moment.  
  
“You’re right.  We haven’t really played since Fulton Street. Whaddya got in mind?”  
  
“Maybe we should put up a hoop.  Some one on one? Toss the ball around?  Touch football with only two of us wouldn’t be all that, but ... maybe ... naked mud wrestling?” Bucky suggested with comically waggling eyebrows.  
  
“If you want sand up your crack, have at it.  Me, I’ll pass. But I’d love to get in some batting practice, maybe.  Never really played basketball, but I’m game - we’ll have to see about setting up a hoop. Shoulda thought about that before everyone came - coulda imported it from New York.”  
  
“Think this’ll be the last time we see these guys here?  I don’t. Sure, Tony’s avoiding the place, but look at everyone else - they love it here.  The team needs a decent getaway. Without training robots and reinforced walls. Some fresh air, some contact with real people.  This is a good place, Steve. I’m glad we decided to come here, even if -“  
  
“Hey guys!” Little George greeted as he trotted over.  “Game’s not as much fun without you, Buck. And you, too, Steve.  You guys coming back?”  
  
“i think I’ve been retired from competitive volleyball,” Bucky answered, grinning up at Little George.  “When the Hulk tells you you’re out, there’s not much point in arguing. You done?”  
  
“Thought I’d take a break.  And hey, that looks like a good idea - got an extra?” he asked, pointing to the Asgardian ale in Steve’s hand.    
  
“Uh -“ Steve answered, while Bucky chuckled.  
  
“Super soldiers only - it’s got some added kick that’s not healthy for normal people.  Keg’s still running, though.”  
  
“Yeah, I heard somebody say they’re running low again.  Wanna go up top and grab another?”  
  
Steve perked up, not really sure why he felt the need to insert himself between Little George and Buck.  “I’ll go with ya, Buck. Between us we can wrangle more’n’a coupla kegs. And besides, I am one of the hosts, and you’re a guest, Little George.  Anything else we need?” he asked Little George.  
  
“Can’t go wrong with more hamburgers and hot dogs, I guess,” Little George shrugged.  “If you’re sure?” he added hopefully, casting a glance toward Bucky.  
  
“Nah, Steve’s right.  Between the two of us, we can handle more.  Oooh, maybe we can add that to our list of athletic pursuits - keg tossing!”  
  
“That’s probably a better idea with empty kegs - wouldn’t wanna waste any beer if we cracked a keg.”  
  
“Fair point.  Wasting beer is bad.  Ah well. We won’t be gone long, though.”  
  
“Yeah, good.  I wanted to talk to both of you about the state certification course.  You’re planning to stick around, right?”  
  
“Well, we haven’t made any final decisions, but ...”  
  
“But I think we’re both interested in learning more,” Steve concluded.  
  
“Well, you’d be great as a gym teacher, Buck,” Little George started, sweeping his hand to encompass Bucky’s physique, “but we already have one of those.  We currently have openings in history and art - I think you guys might fit?”  
  
“I did two years at Pratt before I had to quit.  I’ve always wanted to get back into my art, to be honest.  This might be what I really need.”  
  
“Teaching is something I always thought beyond me.  I mean, I took accounting and business classes, and I did well -“  
  
“He was valedictorian of his class.  Don’t let him sell himself short -”  
  
“But when I got to the front, I found myself teaching green recruits right up until my unit was taken by Hydra.  I’ll be honest - I’m really kind of excited about the idea of teaching for the sake of learning, you know?”  
  
“This is great, then.  So I can put you down as definites?”  
  
“Well ...”  
  
“Um ...”  
  
“Look, think about it.  And know that I’m not gonna give up.  You’re fresh meat, and honestly, we’re running out of qualified candidates - the population of the island is relatively fixed.  The kids deserve good teachers. And I ... I got a good feeling about you,” he concluded, again with a glance toward Bucky.  
  
“We’ll think about it. We’ll get back to you.  Now we’d better grab a couple more kegs before we run out, huh?  Wouldn’t want anybody going thirsty!”  
  
&&&  
  
The ride up in the old elevator was comfortable, familiar.  Steve shook his head, smiling faintly. “Geeze, Howard musta installed this not long after he got home.  Reminds me of the lifts in the London SSR base.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re right.  Howard always did like his gadgets.  But, y’know, if what Old George says is true ... Howard wasn’t in very good shape when he got here.”  
  
“I don’t know a lot about Howard after, you know, and Tony’s memories of Howard aren’t good.  But he was the US’s primary weapons designer. They treated him like a fucking national treasure ‘cos he could make a better boom.  He was responsible indirectly for a lot of death. Sometimes even directly. He always acted like the sun was shining, but every so often ...”  
  
“Yeah. When I’d help out in his workshop, sometimes he’d let things slip.  Especially once his regular guys left for the day. It’s like he had to wear a face for them -“  
  
“That he took off for us.  Yeah, I remember that. Salesman Howard and Real Howard.  Sounds like he was Real Howard here.”  
  
The old elevator ground to a halt with a creak of antique gears, and Bucky reached over to yank the lever back to crank open the door.  They hurried down the hallway and into the house, to be met with the happy barks and yips of her ladyship. Bucky immediately dropped to a crouch to let Daisy jump all over him, slobbering her doggy kisses and crooning the song of her people at him.  Bucky laughed and played with her, letting her have her way with him.  
  
Steve stood there leaning against the doorjamb, smiling fondly as he watched his oldest friend rolling around on the floor with their dog.  
  
Their dog.  Their friends.  This could be their house, their life.  
  
They could have so much together.  If only Steve could commit himself the way Bucky wanted.  But if he got it wrong, what would they have then?  
  
He was shaken out of his thoughts by a slimy dog toy hitting him square in the chest.  “Yo! I think Miss Daisy deserves a day at the beach, whaddya think?”  
  
“I think the princess needs to meet her subjects, sure.  Let’s get the stuff together and escort her majesty to court, huh?”  
  
And just like that, they slotted back into position.  Bucky clambered to his feet with able assist from Daisy, and together they organized several kegs, a two-foot stack of burger patties, a couple of bags full of hot dogs, buns, cheese, and condiments, plus several cases of soda and mixers.  
  
The elevator was nearly full, just enough space to fit the pair of them and Daisy.  “Think we got enough?”  
  
“Eh, we can always do another run.  You know, there’s an alcove off the elevator down below - maybe we should do a coupla runs and load up down there.”  
  
So they did, delivering the first load to Little George to get the beer flowing, and the food to Fury, Happy, and Clint, with Daisy immediately taking off to greet each and every person enjoying their day in the sand.  
  
In the meantime, Steve and Bucky went back up to grab more provisions.  When they got back to the beach level and went in search of a safe place to store the backup kegs and food, they did a little exploring, and discovered not just an alcove, but a series of interleaved walls that eventually revealed a closed door that lead to another section of Howard’s home.    
  
“Do you think there are any plans to this place?  Whaddya think’s behind this door? Pirate treasure?  Howard’s collection of girlie magazines? Hitler’s brain?”  
  
Steve grinned at Bucky, feeling like they were scrappy little kids in the back alleys of Brooklyn, dodging Fatty Hunsberger and his gang.  
  
“Fuck it, let’s go find out.”    
  
Chuckling, Bucky clapped Steve on the back and shoved him forward.  “Let’s go, punk.”  
  
The door was locked, which wasn’t a surprise.  There was an ancient keypad next to the door, and the pair of them looked at it for a moment. Steve peered at the pad and then turned to Bucky.  “You don’t think ...?  
  
“The same combo as in his SSR lab?”  
  
“Give it a shot.”  
  
“Okay. VIVIAN - atomic numbers for vibranium, indium, vanadium, iridium, aluminum, nitrogen.”  Bucky punched in the number sequences, and when they both heard the clicks of the door mechanism releasing, they grinned at each other.  “Surprised he didn’t update it when he met his wife.”  
  
“Ah, nobody forgets their first crush, Buck,” Steve said with a grin, as he reached for the doorknob.  Bucky was behind him, a little gasp escaping that Steve chose not to acknowledge.  
  
The door swung inward, and Steve patted the wall just inside until he felt a light switch panel.  Flicking the lights on, they were treated to a whine of power cycling up, and a sudden flood of illumination from hanging industrial lamps, showing off an array of experimental craft in a space even larger than the five-bay garage above them.  Steve realized that they were beneath the garage, and at the other end of the space, there was another door - a stairway they’d missed as well? Steve took a step toward the door to investigate, ignoring all the amazing craft around him, confident that Bucky was deep into a full threat assessment.  
  
He’d nearly reached the door when he heard Bucky cry, “Oh my God.  It’s here!”  
  
Wheeling to see if “it” was a problem, he grunted out, “What?”  
  
“Howard’s not-so-flying car!” Bucky announced gleefully, and Steve turned fully, the door forgotten.    
  
“No fucking way!”  Then he was standing next to Bucky, staring at the gleaming red convertible with its sideways tires.  “Do you think he ever got it to work?”  
  
“Dunno.  It’s still got scorch marks, though - look how the metal’s pitted.  Nah, I’m betting he just shoved it here to work on later and never got to it. You remember how he was - always working on the next great idea, but he never tossed anything that didn’t work.”  
  
“I wonder if it can be fixed - y’know, maybe Tony -”  
  
“Hates all things Howard, remember? But we should really tell Pepper.”  Bucky paused to take in the space around them, everything covered in a fine but uniform layer of dust, the air not as stale as one would expect for being forgotten for so long.  In fact, the air wasn’t as humid as one would expect so close to the sea. “Environmental controls. This place has been on lockdown, but the house has been taking care of it all this time.  Whaddya wanna bet there’s some kind of control room beyond that door?”  
  
“Makes sense.  And I’m betting no one’s been here for a long time.  Look at the bulletin board,” Steve suggested, pointing to a surprisingly mundane cork board stuck with pictures of fantastical cars, the most prominent being John deLorean’s failed design from the early 1980s.  
  
“Geeze, that’s the Back to the Future car. The Georges did say Howard’s visits tailed off in the ‘80s.  You don’t think Howard gave up because of a time-traveling deLorean, Do you?”  
  
“I think you watch too many movies.  Let’s go tell Pepper, huh?”  
  
&&&  
  
“Are you serious?” Pepper demanded excitedly.  “Oh, wait until Tony sees this,” she added, resuming her livestream for Tony while she made her way toward the hidden facility.  
  
“Nope, never heard of it,” Happy admitted with a chuckle.  “Flying car, huh? What’s next, ray guns? Oh, wait. Yeah, Tony.”  
  
Old George pondered for a moment, then shook his head.  “Howard had some modifications done to the place over the years - adding the elevator to beach level was one of them - but all of that was supervised by Howard directly - he never asked us to oversee any construction projects at the house, only landscaping and ornamental construction.”  
  
Little George’s eyes lit up and he asked Bucky, “Show me?”  
  
Bruce was little better, his scientist’s soul and his inner child vying for ascendence. It wasn’t clear which won out when he announced, “I gotta see this before Tony does,” with Fury echoing the sentiment, trotting right behind him as Bruce hurried over to check it out.  
  
Seriously.  Nick Fury, in shorts and Hawaiian shirt, trotting.  Pepper managed to turn so she could grab the shot, and smiled as Tony laughed out loud.  But Tony’s response upon learning that the flying car was stored on an island in the Atlantic was succinct.  “Be there in 30.”  
  
Steve observed the whirlwind of reaction with bemusement, thinking that Howard would’ve found it funny, the enthusiasm and the wide-eyed wonder his creation engendered.  And now even Tony couldn’t resist the lure of that fanciful car.  
  
In 30 turned out to be in 22, with not a Quinjet touching down, but Tony himself descending from the sky, hands and feet repulsors gently bringing him to rest in the sand, the impact points of the burners fused to glass.  Then the latest Mark whatever version of the suit retracted to reveal a nervous looking Tony Stark, who stepped out of the exoskeleton with a quirked eyebrow and a downturned mouth. “Well?”  
  
“This way,” Steve replied and led him to the hidden garage, which they found to be full of curious and enthusiastic onlookers.  
  
“What’s this? The entire population of the island?”  
  
“Our friends,” Steve explained mildly. “We thought we should invite them to our celebration.”  
  
“Yeah, happy birthday, Spangles.  How about I give you this place for your birthday?  Pep, whaddya think?”  
  
She keyed a string of characters into her StarkPhone.  “Outright gift, or sell it for $1?”  
  
“Outright gift. That okay with you, Cap?”  
  
Steve sputtered and blinked.  “Tony, you can’t just give me a house -”  
  
“I can.  Right? I own this dump, I can give it to a home for wayward super soldiers if I want.  Ooooh, right. Put it in yours and Barnes’s name, right? We can do that, right, gift it to both Barnes and Rogers?” he asked Pepper, who nodded even as her thumb hovered uncertainly over the keyboard on her StarkPhone.  “Yeah, so yours and Frosty, right?”  
  
“That’s very generous, Tony.  And yeah, Buck and me, sure -”  
  
“Oh, Steve, I’m so happy for you both!  You’ve got to let us throw you a proper celebration - you are engaged, right -”  
  
“Yeah, so you and Barnes can take your honeymoon here, or I think we’ve got a tropical island we can lend you -”  
  
“Oh, but we’re not -”  
  
Both Tony and Pepper turned toward him then, both of them waiting for clarification.  
  
“We’re not together,” Steve finished in a small voice.  
  
Pepper’s expression immediately saddened.  “Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry -”  
  
“No, there’s nothing to be sorry about.  We just haven’t, I mean, not yet, I’m not ready to, uh -”  
  
With a meaningful glance toward where Bucky and Little George conferred over one of Howard’s vehicles, Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder.  “Then I think there might be an expiration date on that offer, sport. Might want to up the timetable, make up your mind before it’s made for you.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but y’gotta be straight with him. Pep, let’s gift them both the place anyway.”  
  
She nodded and executed a few commands on the phone, then looked up and informed Steve he and Bucky would receive paperwork to sign in the next couple of days, while Steve stumbled over his own tongue to say thanks.  
  
Tony observed this transaction with a fond smile and a dangerously arched eyebrow, then put the kibosh on all the sentiment when he put his public Tony Stark face on, not unlike Howard’s Salesman Howard face, and demanded, “Where’s this fucking flying car, huh? I heard about it, but I’ve never seen it!”  
  
&&&  
  
“Humph.  Dad used to talk about this when I was a kid.  Didn’t know you guys knew about it,” Tony said as he slid under the chassis of Howard’s flying car.  
  
“Saw it at the Stark Expo night before I shipped out,” Bucky offered as he patted the hood.  
  
“Night I met Erskine,” Steve added, and leaned against the tail fin.  
  
“Did she ever fly?” Little George demanded eagerly, smoothing his hand lovingly down the front fender.  
  
Steve and Bucky exchanged laughing looks and chuckled.  “Tried to. Caught fire and crashed to the ground. Howard admitted it was a prototype.  Always wanted a flying car,” Bucky answered with a sigh.  
  
Tony slid back out from under the car and jumped up, dusting off his hands. “The tech’s beyond antique.  But I could definitely fit you up with a proper ride. Model T or Duesenberg?”  
  
“If you’re makin’ it to order, make mine a Jag,” Bucky smirked.  
  
“Huh.  You’re on, RoboBro.”  
  
&&&  
  
Surprisingly, Tony stuck around, and Pepper was quietly pleased.  She suggested that Bucky show him around Howard’s workshop, but Tony was clear about not wanting to go up to the house.  Fiddling with Howard’s forgotten inventions in the underground garage was as close as he ever intended to get to Howard’s sanctuary.  He even stated he’d be joining Happy and Bruce in the cottage.  
  
Happy did not look ... happy.  Nor did Bruce. Steve was tempted to offer both of them space in the main house, and even started to offer, but both men waved him off.  
  
Pepper then announced she’d be moving her stuff over to join Tony.  At the raised eyebrows that met her announcement, she told them, “Like I’m gonna leave you with Happy and Bruce unchaperoned. The last time I did that, you started playing with alien artificial intelligence.  No, I’m coming with you. Thank you for your hospitality, Steve, but somebody’s gotta look after these lunkheads.”  
  
Sputtering protests met her comment, but Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.  Then he was blushing when Pepper stood on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.  “Happy birthday, Steve.”  
  
The day was wearing on, and guests started to drift away, thanking Steve and Bucky for their hospitality, some chatting with some of the team Iike old friends.    
  
“See you at the dock, right?” Little George asked before he escorted his father, mother, and grandfather to the elevator.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll head in after we get Daisy organized.  I hate to leave her alone during the fireworks, but ...”  
  
“She’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’m glad you’re coming.”  
  
“Yeah, well, fireworks on Steve’s birthday, it’s kind of a thing.  I told him when we were kids that Independence Day fireworks were actually for him.  I was so serious, he believed me. Didn’t figure it out until he was twelve. Boy, the shiner he gave me that day,” Bucky added with a grin.  “Since we’ve been, um, back, we try to see ‘em live.”  
  
“No fisticuffs?”  
  
“Nary a one.  Hey, your folks and grandpa are waiting - I’ll see you at the show, okay?”  
  
“Yeah, can’t wait,” Little George answered with a soft smile.  
  
Bucky watched Little George leave, then shook himself to go back and help Steve get Daisy into her thunder shirt and hope for the best.  
  
&&&  
  
The entire population of Branagh had shifted west to line the harbor facing Boston.  Boston would have its own fireworks over the Charles, but that was too far for the island to get much more than a smudge of light over the mainland.  So the island threw its own show, with a couple of barges anchored off the shore, the school band provided accompaniment, and all the harbor businesses threw their doors open so people could enjoy the tradition together.  
  
Many of the folks from the party disappeared into the masses, but the Avengers and their friends stuck pretty close.  Little George found them shortly after they staked out a location, and Steve felt an irrational sense of disappointment, like Little George was intruding on a private team activity.  But the way the smile lit up Bucky’s face when their friend joined them, he couldn’t complain. Steve could still remember days, weeks, months, when Bucky hadn’t remembered how to smile, so he treasured every one he had.  
  
The fireworks were fun, color spattered across the sky, raining down in shards of light.  The school band could use some harmony and maybe benefit from some rhythm, but the evening had a homey, fun vibe.  Like belonging to something real, something permanent.  
  
As the last fireworks trails faded from the sky, Tony announced that it wasn’t bad, but he could definitely do better.  Pepper smacked him at the back of his head, and everyone laughed.  
  
As they started to disperse, Little George trotted over to catch Steve and Bucky.  “So, don’t forget about the certification, okay?”  
  
“You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?”  
  
“Well, the quality of our school means a lot to the future of our kids, yeah.”  
  
“So are you the principal?”  
  
“Science teacher.  I’m not just a glorified gardener, I have a masters in Horticultural Science.  Every year, I have at least one grade do a horticultural unit, and they’ve been creating a park on the island, expanding it a little every year with each class’s contributions.  We’re building the future of Branagh, guys. And if you stick around, you could make such a difference -“  
  
Steve asked, “When do we have to make our decisions?”  
  
“You have to take the certification course first, then the exam.  To be ready for the school year, you should start the course in the next week or so, so you can take the exam in August.  That way you’d have your results by the start of school year.”  
  
Steve looked at Bucky at the same time Bucky looked at Steve.  As one, they shrugged. “We’ll definitely think about it, okay?”  
  
&&&  
  
They arrived back at the house in a cortège, and the cars slotted into the garage bays between the cottage and the main house. Happy, Bruce, Tony, and Pepper stopped off at the cottage, and Happy had announced he’d stop by the main house to collect Pepper’s things.  
  
Everyone was settled in for the night, happily tired after a day of sun, sand, good food, better company, and spectacular pyrotechnics.  Bucky had bundled a shivering Daisy up and retired to his room overlooking the ocean approach, crooning comforting sounds to the pup. Happy had come back to collect Pepper’s things after dropping Tony, Bruce, and Pepper off at the cottage.  Everyone else had stumbled to their bedrooms, even Natasha with a pointed look up the stairs where Bucky and Daisy had gone. Only Sam remained, and he helped himself to a bottled beer from the fridge and gestured toward the ocean-facing terrace.  Steve grabbed himself an Asgardian ale and followed.  
  
The night was cooling, a gentle salt-laden breeze wafting in off the ocean as they each dropped down onto the comfy striped loungers arrayed on the terrace.  Small stone tables made perfect places to set their drinks down, but they each took a long pull of their bottles before they did.  
  
“So.  You and Barnes.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“How’s that goin’?”  
  
“Well, um -”  
  
“He’s got somebody sniffin’ around him, and he looks like he might be interested.  You okay with that?”  
  
“I ... well, it’s not like that’s anything new, Buck was always popular with the ladies, always going out.  Went steady for a while after high school - thought he was gonna get married, but she called it off. He didn’t make enough money to suit her.  So ...”  
  
“So, what does that mean for you two?  He’s still interested, right?” Steve nodded.  “And is Steve? Is Steve interested?”  
  
Steve masked his confusion and frustration by taking a long drink from his bottle, enjoying the cold brew and the way it made his blood fizzle.  
  
“Steve?  The two of you nearly tore up the beach today when you started playing against each other -”  
  
A grin overtook Steve’s face as he nodded.  “Yeah, that was fun. We’ve never done that before.  I mean, sorry we scared people, but it was such a rush to go up against someone my equal, to push myself for fun.  We agreed we gotta do more of that.”  
  
“Well, that’s good, I guess.  I thought it stank of sexual frustration, myself.”  
  
Steve choked on the gulp of ale, coughing spasmodically.  Sam leaned over and clapped him on the back. “Shit, whaddya do when a super soldier chokes?”  
  
Steve waved him off as he leaned forward on the lounger, drawing his knees up.  “I guess the super Heimlich? I dunno. But ... sexual frustration?”  
  
“Yeah.  Am I wrong?  I mean, do you feel anything like that for him?”  
  
“I ... I feel something.  Something more than loving him as my brother, my best friend.  I think. Sometimes. But I’m not sure what everyone is expecting me to feel -”  
  
“No one’s expecting you to feel anything one way or the other, Steve.  Just for you to figure out what you do feel. Either say yes to him and give it a try, or say no and let him move on.”  
  
Steve dropped back against the lounger with a whoosh.  “Trust me, I wanna do that. I’m just really confused. I’ve never had a real relationship, never dated.  I know the history books make a big thing out of me and Peggy, but we weren’t like that. I mean, if we’d had the chance, we could’ve been something special, I think.  But we never dated, we kissed just once, never did anything before, and then I nose-dived in the Atlantic. But what I felt for her was I wanted to be with her all the time, wanted to spend time with her.  I’d’ve been satisfied with that, y’know? I feel the same way about Buck, always have. So ... I just don’t know.”  
  
“Do you even like sex?” Sam asked gently, leaning forward.    
  
“I think so?  I mean, I enjoy, y’know,” he curled his fingers and drew them up and down.    
  
“With a partner?”  
  
Steve shrugged.  “‘S’okay. Not so much fun when there’s no real connection.  Never done it with anyone who just wanted plain old Steve Rogers.”  
  
“But with Barnes ...”  
  
Steve sighed.  “Part of me wants it so badly, I feel like my lungs are damaged all over again.  But what if I’m not enough? What if it changes us and we can’t go back? Is it really worth losing all that we have already?”  
  
“Well, I guess that’s the decision you need to make, Steve.  Just ... be kind, and don’t take too long, huh?”  
  
&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re having some technical difficulties getting the art linked, but it will be worth the wait! Lisa’s illustrations are gorgeous and i can’t wait for you to see them!
> 
> Leave us some comment love in the meantime, please!


	4. When You Look Me in the Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky explores possibilities not Steve, and Steve realizes he’s made a mistake bigger than the five boroughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with plot, angst, hurricanes, and Daisy. One more chapter to go - posting late on 7Mar19!

“Wow, I really didn’t think they were serious,” Steve breathed, pulling a sheaf of papers out of a Tyvek legal envelope.  
  
“What’s that?” Bucky asked from where he was playing tug of war with Daisy on the couch.  She had her teeth clamped down on a slimy tennis ball as his prosthetic arm tightened up and pulled back.  She growled good-naturedly and he smiled affectionately right back.  
  
Steve crossed the room and dropped down on the couch beside Bucky and flashed the paperwork in front of him.  
  
Bucky shifted, letting Daisy snag the ball, which she promptly dropped onto his naked thigh, making him grimace. But when he peered at the pile of paper in Steve’s fist, his brows drew together curiously.  
  
“Is that a ... deed?”  
  
Steven nodded, lips pressed together, then broke into a wide grin.  “Tony is gifting us the house.”  
  
“Us?” Bucky asked hopefully, his eyebrows unknotting to shoot up toward his hairline.  “You and me?” He couldn’t mask the hope in his voice, the way his heart was pounding. A home of their own, together.  Surely that meant -  
  
“Yeah, he offered it to me, and then he suggested both of us.  I mean, we never had anything of our own, did we? Not back in Brooklyn, not on the front, not even at the tower.  And well, we both love it here. So why not, huh?”  
  
Of course.  Yeah. They’d been roommates so much of their adult lives, of course Steve would think that way.  
  
“So ... what next?”  
  
“Ah, we both gotta sign.  Pepper even has a note in here that Tony’s covering the taxes.  Plus, we get to keep everything that was Howard’s - even the not-so-flying car.  The cottage and everything that goes with that. The whole shebang. So, whaddya say - wanna be a homeowner? With me?”  
  
Homeowner.  Not as sexy as he’d hoped, but it was something.  He knew he’d always have a home with Steve, even if it wasn’t the home he wanted.  Bucky had the strong feeling that Steve had given him his answer without actually giving his answer.  He was happy with what they had. He might want more, but what they had ... it was precious.  
  
“Shack up with you, punk?  Yeah, sure. Give it here.”  
  
&&&  
  
The next day, LG called Bucky to come into town to meet him at the school to talk about the certification program.  Bucky didn’t question the invitation being directed to him alone - he could relay anything LG had to say, and he could pretty much anticipate any questions Steve might have.  So he hopped into Howard’s Bugatti - his Bugatti, he guessed, his and Steve’s - and headed toward the school.  
  
Branagh Island’s school was a single structure, built in a U-shape around an athletic field on the one side, and a modest parking lot on the other.  It sat inland, so wasn’t in the direct path of any weather systems coming in off the ocean.  
  
Culled from the several small villages on the island, the student population fell under three hundred students from pre-K to twelfth grade.  Classes were a comfortable size, ranging from under 20 to up to 30 students, depending on the age group. The optimal education staff was between 15 and 20 teachers and administrators, and right now, the place was hovering at 13 plus a couple of part-time volunteers.  Bucky understood why LG was so insistent on luring Steve and Bucky to the faculty, because the alternative for the school was to start increasing class sizes, and doubling up teachers. With an already strained staff, that could lead to more defections, and Branagh just wasn’t getting new residents at a rate that made replacements an option.  
  
Steve and Bucky had discussed it, and agreed they’d give it a shot.  Bucky felt that he might be willing to make a more permanent commitment than Steve, because he wasn’t quite sold on Steve setting down the shield permanently.  But for now, they both were planning to take the classes and go for the certification. Once they had their results, they’d make more realistic plans.  
  
He pulled into the parking lot and let himself in the front door, a beautiful dark wood with frosted glass inserts.  Inside, the interior was decorated in calming swathes of greens and blues, with rank after rank of children’s art pinned to six-inch cork panels that ran the length of each wall.  It was a nice touch, showcasing the kids in a kids’ space. He liked the feel of the place. He knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near this calm when the corridors were full of students, but it felt like a place where children could learn, and reach for their best selves.  
  
He felt this could be a place where James Barnes could be happy.  Where he could reach for his best self, too.  
  
He found LG in the administration offices.  He was dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and comfortable cargo shorts, not unlike Bucky’s own outfit.  It seemed like the island uniform in some ways, at least during these warm summer months. You could pick out the tourists because their clothes tended to have brand name logos that weren’t LL Bean or the house brand at Target or Wal-Mart.  Bucky cleared his throat to announce his presence, and LG looked up expectantly, breaking into a beaming smile.  
  
“Ah, you’re here!”  
  
“Where you asked me to be,” Bucky agreed, coming into the waiting area of the admin offices.  
  
“Yeah, yeah I did.  Hey, let’s go into the conference room - more private.”  
  
“In a school where there’s not another living soul.  Did you lure me to feed me to some primeval island monster, LG?”  
  
“You got me.  We’re all just in thrall to the ancient sea god of the Wampanoag, and we’ve been waiting for you for centuries -“ he couldn’t hold the straight face he was aiming for, and dissolved into giggles.  “Your face! You watch too many horror movies, Buck!”  
  
“Lived too many, too,” he replied, not smiling.    
  
“Shit, sorry.  I forget - you’ve seen a lot, a lot I could never understand.  Sorry. Look, can we start over? I have some stuff on the certification program for you, I left it in the conference room.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Bucky agreed, and followed him into the conference room.  “Y’know, you coulda just thrown these in the mail or brought ‘em out to the house yourself -“  
  
LG blushed then and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.  “Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you, y’know, just you.” He waved Bucky into one of the chairs around the table, and slid across two sets of books and worksheets.  “These’ll help when you’re taking the courses online. You can do them without them, but they’re useful. I wanna give you guys the best possible chances for success -“  
  
“But you didn’t really call me here to talk about certification, did you, LG?”  
  
LG shook his head.  “No, but I didn’t feel like this was something I should talk to you over the phone about.  And I certainly didn’t think it was appropriate to talk about it at the house you share with Steve.”  
  
“LG -“  
  
“Just what is your relationship with Steve, Buck?  I mean, I know what the history books say. I know what came out at the trial -“ his voice dropped to a whisper mentioning the trial of the Winter Soldier that was a part of Bucky’s modern history.  His modern history where he was exonerated of all charges and restored to a life that had been interrupted in 1943 with his first capture by Hydra. “I see you two together, and I can’t figure it out.”  
  
“And why is that important to you, LG?  What right do you have to ask me these questions?”  
  
“No right.  None at all.  But ... I would like to.  Have a right. I’d like to be more than your property caretaker.  Or your fellow educator. I’d like to be more than friends, Bucky.  I wouldn’t ever try to interfere with your relationship with Steve. But ... if you’re free, I’d really like to take you out.  Date you. Woo you. Get to know you better. Show you how much I value you. How attracted I am to you.”  
  
They’d been dancing around each other for weeks, flirting, smiling, touching.  Nothing big, nothing major, nothing more than play. But there had always been an undercurrent of possibility, and that had been exciting to Bucky.  Especially since he and Steve still hadn’t defined themselves, still hadn’t taken any steps toward any kind of intimacy. He still didn’t know where he stood with Steve.  Oh, he suspected. But he didn’t know with certainty, and as long as there was a chance with Steve, he didn’t want to screw it up.  
  
But ...  
  
“We came here to figure out what we are to each other.  We haven’t decided anything.”  
  
“But you would like to ... ?”  
  
“LG, I’m flattered, really I am.  And I appreciate that you didn’t want to talk about this at the home I apparently own now with Steve.  Yeah, Stark gave it to us. Steve is always going to be an important part of my life, no matter what. Can you give me a couple of days?  I’ll have an answer for you one way or another, I promise.”  
  
“Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that.  Yeah, Buck.”  
  
&&&  
  
Bucky admitted to himself that he was flattered by LG’s interest.  And in a moment of brutal honesty with himself, he had to admit that he was interested right back.  But this was something he felt he needed to discuss with Steve first before he admitted anything to LG.  There was still a chance as long as he didn’t push it, but he was fast becoming convinced that telling Steve that he’d found someone not-Steve was just a formality.  
  
The drive back to the house was too short and far too long at the same time.  He was tempted to take the Bugatti out and open her up, but the truth was, the roads on Branagh just weren’t long enough to really let a fine animal like the Bugatti loose properly.  
  
And Bucky knew he was just trying to distract himself from something he’d really rather not face.  His memories from before his Hydra enslavement were spotty at best, but he’d come to realize over the past couple of months that there had always been something special about his relationship with Steve Rogers, his feelings for him, even in childhood.  He didn’t believe he’d ever fit so well with anyone else. He never had, and he never would. But if there were a chance for happiness with someone else, if Steve genuinely didn’t want what he wanted, he owed to himself - and to Steve - to go for it.  
  
He still didn’t want to hear Steve admit that he didn’t want him, though.  He still wanted to be able to hold onto that dream, wrap himself up in it and snuggle it to sleep.  But it was becoming increasingly obvious that it really was just a dream, and one that could sour what he and Steve had without either of them meaning for it to happen.  
  
Finally, he pulled into the garage and slid the Bugatti into its bay.  He sat for a moment, listening to the subtle purr of the engine, ran his hands over the curve of the steering wheel, and sighed.  
  
He’d allow himself another hour of hope.  There was dinner to prepare, a walk for Daisy, and then he and Steve would sit down at the dinner table.  He’d ask Steve after they ate. Okay, maybe two, two-and-a-half hours. But tonight. He’d have an answer tonight.  And tomorrow, he’d learn to live with it.  
  
&&&  
  
Since moving to Branagh, Steve and Bucky’s eating habits had changed considerably.  They relied much less on prepared foods, and both of them had learned to cook using fresh ingredients.  Branagh’s farms and cottage industries provided nearly everything they could want, with the exception of Asgardian ale.They’d found some tasty alternatives in the island meadery and a local craft beer brewer, but only the stuff from Thor could give them a buzz.  
  
They usually shared cooking duties, each of them preparing different parts of the meal while they listened to music and danced around each other, enjoying each other’s company, and sharing bits with Daisy as she wove in and around them in search of treats that were liberally shared.  
  
It was a pleasant existence they shared, all the best elements of their lives before the war, their partnership at the front, and the stability of their residency at the tower, combined with the unique qualities of life on a self-sustaining island, all distilled into a comfortable and comforting life.  For both of them, nightmares were fewer, panic attacks were down, and in general, they both felt stronger, healthier, in the life they’d built together.  
  
With a smile, Bucky realized that was the difference.  For the first time, their lives were theirs, constructed by choice, rather than necessity.  It was a heady realization, more so for someone who’d been stripped of choice for so much of his life.    
  
“What’s got you smiling, Buck?” Steve asked fondly, his own lips curving to mirror Bucky’s smile.  
  
“Just thinkin’ we’ve done pretty well for ourselves,” Bucky answered, reached for Steve, and invited, “Dance with me, punk.”  
  
Steve chuckled, shaking his head in response.  “Still got two left feet.”  
  
“Don’t care.  C’mere,” Bucky urged, tugged Steve closer, positioned his hands, and started moving them both as Daisy yipped and danced on her hind feet alongside them.  
  
Steve felt good in Bucky’s arms, warm, solid, smelling of one of the locally made soaps they found at the farmers’ market.  Bucky bit back the urge to draw him in even closer, press his face into his neck, breathe him in and kiss him senseless. But if he was going to have to face a reality where Steve didn’t choose them, he was going to have this to remember.  
  
They danced for a few minutes while their dinner baked, and then the ding went off on the oven, and Bucky regretfully let Steve go to grab his oven mitts and deal with dinner.  
  
“Get the salad and hand me the basket for the rolls, will ya?”

* * *

* * *

And they fell back into the easy rapport that had always defined the way they fit together.  Within minutes, they had the table set with their meal, and they were tucking in.  
  
They were finishing up when Steve cleared his throat and asked, “What’d you do today?”  
  
And there it was.  The moment Bucky had been delaying and dreading.  And needing.  
  
“Went in to the school to meet up with LG.  Picked up some books and worksheets for us to use in the certification course.”  
  
“Ah,” Steve answered, and took a sip of his mead.  It tasted good with the fish they’d made, and Bucky accepted the reprieve it was to take a sip of his own.  
  
And then Steve nodded to himself.  “That all?” he asked, and Bucky could see the sudden tension thrumming through every muscle in Steve’s body, the sudden pressure of his lips flattening against each other, the sudden tightening around his eyes.  
  
Steve was bracing for the Moment, too.  
  
How should Bucky respond?  Would his answer change Steve’s?  
  
He could only answer honestly.  
  
He had to know.  
  
“What are we, Steve?”  
  
“We’re best friends.”  
  
“That all?” Bucky echoed Steve’s question to him.  
  
“I ...”  
  
“Steve, we moved here to figure out what we could be. We still don’t have any answers.  What do you think about something happening between us? Do you think it’s possible, or is it something that you really aren’t interested in?”  
  
Steve lifted his eyes, and Bucky could swear he could see the sheen of tears.  “I ...”  
  
“If you really don’t want it, then I’ll rescind my request, and we can just go on as we always have. Best friends.  But if there’s any chance that you could be interested, I’m willing to wait the rest of my life for you, however long that may be.”  
  
“I ... I’m still not sure.  I don’t know why I’m struggling with this so much.  All I know is that I want you to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Buck.”  
  
Bucky felt that this was the truth, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  It might not be what he wanted to hear, but he was okay so long as Steve was honest with him, just like he’d said.    
  
Then Steve kind of ruined it by adding, “If you think you’ve found someone who can do that, who can make you happy, you shouldn’t deny yourself.  You should go for it, so long as it makes you happy.”  
  
Bucky felt that there was a false note there, but Steve seemed sincere.  Maybe it was just his disappointment speaking, so Bucky resorted to honesty in his response.  “LG asked me out.”  
  
“I wondered.”  
  
“If there’s a chance, Steve ...”  
  
“You should go out with him.  He knows what he wants.”  
  
“That’s not what I asked.”  
  
“I know.  But it’s all I got right now, pal.  A fella should be able to figure out what he wants, y’know?  The fact that I can’t ... I don’t wanna leave you hanging forever, Buck.  I wanna see you happy. If Little George ... well, if LG can do that, make you happy, then I don’t wanna stand in the way of that.”  
  
Bucky thought that Steve was a self-sacrificing asshole, and that nothing had ever changed about that.    
  
Bucky was having a hard time sorting out his emotions in that moment, a tangled skein of reactions and feelings.  He was disappointed Steve wasn’t interested. He was relieved to have an answer. He was excited to open a new chapter.  He was mad because he felt that Steve wasn’t being completely honest with him now. Or with himself.  
  
But he could either make a scene and maybe screw things up between them, or he could accept Steve’s decision at face value.    
  
The look of supportive sincerity on Steve’s face settled it.  Bucky smiled a smile that felt brittle around the edges, and nodded.  “Okay. Yeah. Thanks. Hey, you wanna break into that ice cream we got the other day at Lawryk’s farm?”  
  
“I could be persuaded.”  
  
&&&  
  
Bucky settled down in bed, Daisy curled up at his side, and opened his tablet.  Up until today, he’d continued to send links to Steve, fan fiction, video, and a few curated images that he’d found especially stimulating.  Steve had reciprocated with links of his own, some fan fiction, a video or two, and some really amazing fan art. Steve had started following an artist who did the most incredible porn comics, and there’d been a steady stream of new panels in Buck’s inbox each night.  
  
But they hadn’t discussed whether they would continue the exchange.  Now that a relationship between them was off the table, should Bucky continue to feed the porn beast?  Would Steve continue to share?  
  
Just then a notification popped up.  E-mail from sgr1918@gmail.com. Eagerly, Bucky opened it up and saw a lengthy list of links and an imbedded image that was ... wow.  At the top of the message was, “Keep sharing?”  
  
Bucky smiled to himself and immediately went into his drafts folder and clicked send on the message he’d drafted earlier.    
  
He might be smarting right now from the rejection, but he felt confident they’d be okay.  And maybe it was for the best - the last thing he wanted was for them to change who they were to each other.  Even if he’d always wonder if they couldn’t have been themselves, just more.  
  
Before he availed himself of the new links Steve sent, he figured he might as well take the next step.  There was no point in delaying, even though he’d asked for a couple of days. He had his answer.  
  
“I’m free.”  
  
His thumb hovered over the send button for a long moment.  Then he sighed, and pressed it.  
  
Then opened up the first of Steve’s video links.  
  
When the notification popped up from lgm1983@gmail.com, he glanced down briefly to see LG’s “Lunch at Joe’s?”  
  
He’d answer in the morning.  Right now, he deserved some me time.  He silenced the audio on his tablet, slid his hand under the covers and down into his pajama pants, and sighed.  Daisy snuffled in her sleep and rolled over.  
  
&&&  
  
**August**  
  
Over the next several weeks, Bucky met LG for lunches, for dinners, for dancing, for picnics, for wandering through the farmers’ market, hands touching, sometimes holding.  At home, Bucky and Steve both reviewed the certification materials, and they tried to dedicate some time every day or so to compare notes and discuss the courses.  
  
Then they took the exams online and even those study sessions ended.  They didn’t make dinner together as often as they had before Steve had made his decision because Bucky was out with LG so often.  Steve spent more time with Daisy by himself than before, because Bucky wasn’t there to dote over their best girl.  
  
Steve was surprised at how big the Bucky-sized hole in his life was, and how quickly it was carved out.  It wasn’t like when Bucky dated girls before the war. Back then, he hadn’t been serious about finding someone, hadn’t been dedicated to settling down, and the time he’d devoted to the opposite sex had been limited.  The pair of them had always spent far more time together than Bucky’d spent with his paramours. And when Steve had let Buck go to pursue romance with someone else, he’d honestly expected more of the same, where the letting go cost him little of Bucky’s attention and time.  
  
But with LG, it was very, very different from what Steve expected.  LG was actively courting Bucky, not the other way around. And he was pouring on the charm at every juncture - flowers, wine, even chocolates from the island’s lone chocolatier.  Romantic dates and day trips. He’d even booked the ferry to take Bucky to the theatre in Boston last week, and they’d stayed overnight at one of the big hotels. Bucky had come home to the island and the house, hummed music from the play’s libretto, and smiled softly to himself at some memory he didn’t share with Steve.  
  
Steve was starting to fear that Bucky would soon be moving out to live with LG.  What he’d told Bucky still held true - he wanted Bucky to be happy. He just hadn’t factored that for Bucky to be truly happy, it might mean that Bucky would be happy without Steve.  He hadn’t planned on their friendship to be lost in the growth of Bucky’s romance with LG.  
  
He’d been terrified that moving their relationship from friendship to romance would irrevocably and dangerously alter who they were to each other, and so he hadn’t been willing to make that leap.  And yet, here he was, watching the gulf between him and Bucky grow wider every day.  
  
So Steve did the only thing that made sense to him.  He threw himself into distractions rather than deal with anything remotely resembling emotion.  
  
One of the things LG had sent home with Bucky was a stack of previous syllabi for the art courses offered at the school.  Each grade had its own lesson plan, both tailored to the age group, and building upon the earlier plans. He could see the progression, although he was already seeing ways in which it could be improved.  He was glad to focus on something completely removed from Bucky or LG, and found himself spending time online researching various periods, movements, and techniques. It wasn’t long before Steve’s fingers itched sufficiently for him to start trying out different techniques, to get his hand back and retrain his eyes to move from tactical and strategic to organic and artistic.  
  
Steve threw himself back into art.  He rode his bike to the artists colony and browsed the wares of the small shops that served the community.  He had long conversations with fellow artists, and spent time seated outside his favorite bakery, sipped his excellent coffee, noshed on delicious baked goods, and sketched passers by and tourists alike.  He hiked out to the dunes with Daisy in tow, and set up an easel so he could capture the play of light on the ocean swells. He worked on a painting for Tony, a real original Steve Rogers, something that would be worthy of a frame and a place in the Potts-Stark art collection.  
  
He watched, fascinated, as a pod of dolphins cavorted in the waves.  Then he researched the return of dolphins to Boston Harbor after the massive harbor clean-up of the ‘80s and ‘90s.  
  
He learned to play frisbee with Daisy.  He unpacked the basketball hoop Tony had shipped from New York and messed around with dribbling and free throws, and realized that solo basketball sucked.  
  
Even as he watched Bucky disappear from his daily life, they continued their odd communication through links and images.    
  
He remembered his conversations with Nat and Sam, the questions they’d each asked.  What steps had they taken to explore the possibilities, understand their options. What had they done to test the waters.  
  
Nothing.  Steve had never even tried.  And Bucky had been nothing but patient, waiting for Steve to make a move, any move, declare an interest, an intent.  
  
He’d been so afraid of making the wrong decision, of risking his friendship with Bucky on a possibility, of changing who they were to each other, he’d managed to sacrifice it all.  
  
And now he wondered.  Could they have been something after all?  
  
&&&  
  
“Well, I’m surprised to hear from you.”  
  
“What, I can’t give my old partner a call now and again?” Nat asked with a smirk in her voice.    
  
“Of course you can.  You’re just more likely to show up than to call.”  
  
“Well, it is more difficult when you remove yourself to an island in the Atlantic, Steve.  Which is why I’m calling.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“JARVIS is tracking a tropical depression in the Gulf that looks like it’s going to pick up steam as it heads your way.  He’s forecasting it’ll form into a Cat 4 named hurricane before it crawls up the coast. He thinks it’ll still be a Cat 3 by the time it curves back toward Massachusetts - with Branagh right in the crosshairs.”  
  
“I’ll let the harbormaster know - they’ll coordinate with the communities on the island to get people to shelters if necessary.”  
  
“That’s nice, but that’s not why I’m calling.  I wanted to offer you and Barnes a quick exit.”  
  
“Exit?”  
  
“Sam could be there in less than an hour with a Quinjet to pull you off and bring you both back to New York.  He’s not keen to do it across the wall, so if you want evac, we’d need to coordinate before the track brings the storm to your doorstep.”  
  
“Well, I appreciate the offer.  I don’t think it’ll be necessary - remember, Howard reinforced this place with vibranium windows.  And it’s stood against storms before, more than a century, in fact. So I’m guessing we’ll be okay.  And besides - um, well -“  
  
“Spit it out, Steve.  You’ll feel better once you do.”  
  
“What’s that mean?”  
  
“You’re going to tell me that you made your decision, and Barnes is dating that cute guy from the party.”  
  
“How’d you figure that out?”  
  
“I follow Barnes on social media.  Don’t you?”  
  
“He’s on social media?”  
  
“Steve. How you can be a superior tactician and not take advantage of the resources at your disposal constantly amazes me.”  
  
“I know how to use social media, I just didn’t know Buck was ... broadcasting his relationship with LG on it.  He ... well, he never mentioned it to me.”  
  
“Based on his Insta posts, I’m guessing you two don’t spend a lot of time together anymore.  How do you feel about that?”  
  
This was Natasha he was speaking to.  World class spy. Notorious for ignoring boundaries.  Weirdly invested in Steve’s love life. One of the first real friends he’d made in the 21st century.  
  
He could lie to her, but she’d know.  And then she would not let up until she’d forced him to tell her the truth.  
  
So he might as well get all that annoying shit out of the way, and just come clean.  
  
“I feel that I made the biggest mistake of my life when I told Buck to be with LG, and there’s no way I can fix it.”  
  
&&&  
  
The Blue Dolphin was a popular seafood and steak restaurant for residents and visitors alike, but the impending storm had driven many tourists back to the mainland as weather forecasts over the past few days had continued to set the storm’s track closer and closer to landfall at Branagh.   The restaurant was quiet as a result, only a few locals enjoying very good food, perfectly paired wine, and excellent service. The lights were low, casting amber oases of illumination over couples dining, creating little bubbles of intimacy. Soft music set the mood, an unobtrusive background to low-voiced conversations.  
  
Bucky sat across from LG in a booth along one wall, sheltered from the door by a switchback of half walls that held at bay the gusting wind and slashing rain that already reached the island in advance of the main storm.  Inside, it was warm and calm, an evening wrapped in gold. Bucky had made a deliberate decision to sit with his back to the door, denying his native impulse to maintain a defensible position and to have clear sight lines on all methods of entrance and egress.  He knew that LG wouldn’t be able to appreciate the gesture, but it made Bucky feel proud to be acting like a Real Boy (TM) for the evening.  
  
Their food had been delivered a few minutes earlier, a steak that balanced perfectly between flavorfully raw and health code compliant cooked.  It was delicious. LG was enjoying his meal, too, a boiled lobster taken from lobster pots off the coast before the chop got too bad earlier that day.  Conversation had dimmed while they gave their meals the attention they deserved, but Bucky’s attention kept straying to the television over the bar, where some prime time show droned on, but the news crawl constantly updated the storm’s status.  
  
“Y’know, you don’t have to worry,” LG said suddenly, reaching for his wine glass.  
  
“Hmm?” Bucky asked, eyes still following the crawl.  
  
“I said you don’t have to worry. This island is here to stay.  We’ve been through much worse.”  
  
“Yeah, but -“  
  
“If it’s the house you’re worrying about, don’t. It had already stood firm against the weather and God knows how many hurricanes by the time Howard bought it.  And then he enhanced it. I’m pretty sure between the house’s own superior construction, the vibranium laced windows, and the automatic shutters Howard designed to engage when wind velocity reaches a specific threshold, you could survive a direct hit not only from the storm, but a nuclear weapon, and that house would still be standing.  It’s got its own power supply, its own well, it’ll be fine.”  
  
“But Daisy -“  
  
“Will be fine.  Steve’s with her, right?  They’ll keep each other company.  Unless he has some, what’s it called, PTSD that’s triggered by storms?”  
  
“No, I’m the one who has issues with sudden loud noises,” Bucky corrected, hauling his attention back from the crawl so he could pay proper attention to cutting his steak.  He popped a piece in his mouth and chewed for a moment, enjoying the play of flavors across his tongue. “Steve had some difficulty adjusting to noises after the serum, but not because they scared him - with his hearing, he’d just never heard a lot of them before.”  
  
“Wow.  That’s not something any history book has ever addressed.  I mean, the books talk about his ailments, but nobody’s ever done anything about how his perception of the world around him changed because of the serum.”  
  
Bucky nodded.  “He’d been hard of hearing and color blind.  Had some issues with sense of smell, too. Taste.  Mostly saw the world in shades of gray, heard it through cotton wool.  I mean, I wasn’t there when he came out of the chamber, but i remember some of his struggle on the front.  He wasn’t hard of hearing anymore, and in fact had enhanced hearing. But he didn’t have context for a lot of the sounds he was hearing, didn’t know how to process them.”  
  
“Ah, okay.  We have a young woman coming into eleventh grade this year.  She had a cochlear implant, and I remember she struggled to make sense of sounds in general. Y’know, we don’t have a special needs counselor, but Steve’s experiences ... he might be a good fit for that.”  
  
“He’d like that, I think.  He coulda used somebody Iike that when he was young.”  
  
“He had you, right?” LG asked, lifting his glass in a sort of toast.  
  
“Yeah, it’s not the same.  People today recognize that asthma is a disease of the body, but when we were kids, a lot of people thought it was a disease of the mind.  Like he wasn’t right in the head. Like a lot of what was wrong with him just meant he was put together wrong. A lot of adults treated him like that.  Steve was a scrapper because he had to be just to get people to take him seriously.”  
  
LG put his glass down and shook his head, his mouth a sour line of dismay.  “This always happens. We go out, we’re having a nice time, and somehow the conversation always comes round to Steve.  I’m not dating Steve, I’m dating you, so let’s leave him at home, okay? He’s in the most secure spot of the island. He’ll be fine.  Daisy’ll be fine. So let’s talk about us, huh? I was thinking tonight might be a good night for you to, y’know, maybe stay over.”  
  
Bucky put his utensils down quietly on either side of his plate and looked at LG.  “Excuse me?”  
  
“The roads will probably get more dangerous as the storm gets closer.  There’s gonna come a point where no one should be outside, not for any reason except emergency response.  I’m just saying, maybe you should think about staying over at my house tonight.”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“I’m not trying to put any pressure on you.  I have a guest room, you can stay there if you want.  Separate bedrooms, just like Boston. Until the storm passes and the roads are safe again.  But if you’re interested in more ... you know I would love to welcome you to my bed, Buck,” LG added, reaching across the table to lace his fingers with Bucky’s.  “I’ve wanted you since the day I first met you. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Bucky - James. Do you like to be called James? Bucky seems so, I don’t know.  But like I said, I’m not trying to put any pressure on you, I just want you to be safe. But if you want more ... You know I do. If you want more, I’d love to share it with you.”  
  
“I, uh, I don’t know,” Bucky shook his head gently.  And he was surprised to hear himself echoing Steve then. Again.  He’d begged off sharing a room when they’d gone to Boston and stayed in town overnight.  And now he was turning down another invitation. And he wasn’t entirely sure why.  
  
He was attracted to LG, he knew he was.  And LG had expressed his attraction on more than one occasion, pretty much constantly, really.  They’d enjoyed spending time together, they’d exchanged a few chaste kisses, nothing too hot. Okay, maybe a little hot.  Yeah, okay, they made out a lot. There was definitely some southerly blood flow happening. A little bit of over the clothes touching.  Frankly, less than he’d gotten up to with Dolores Kenyon back in the day. LG wasn’t just a one night stand, though. They were taking careful steps toward a relationship, and he wasn’t ready to jump in too fast for fear of messing it up.    
  
And yeah, the irony wasn’t lost on him - he was treating LG very like the way Steve had treated him in many ways.    
  
It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. He’d jerked off to the thought of doing more with LG.  He’d jerked off to the thought of doing more with Steve, too. He’d jerked off to porn and fanfic too.  Some of the fan art and images Steve sent him. He jerked off a lot, if he was being honest with himself.  What could he say? His right hand knew what he liked, like he’d told Steve. He liked the way it made him feel.  
  
But the prospect of having someone else’s hand on his dick, of having his hands on someone else ... the idea excited and terrified him.  And he wasn’t sure he was ready yet. He’d been ready when it was Steve. He knew he’d wanted Steve. He trusted Steve. Your first time should be with someone you trusted, right?  And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust LG. It was just ...  
  
Bucky still wasn’t sure he was really ready yet to give up on Steve being the one he did all that with.  
  
Something in his face must have given away his train of thought.  “You told me you and Steve, you’re just friends. That’s not exactly true, is it?”  
  
“He’s my best friend.”  
  
“Yeah, we’ve all heard the story.  Best friends since childhood, on and off the battlefield.  But was it normal friend behavior in 1943 to walk behind enemy lines to near certain death on the off chance that his best friend was still alive?”  
  
Bucky snorted, and took a swig of his wine.  It tasted good and it gave him a moment to think.  Clearly, since the wine had no effect on him. He shook his head then, and answered, “It was if your name was Steve Rogers.  He is the most stubborn asshole who ever lived. He was then, and he still is. You tell him he can’t do something, and he will die trying to prove you wrong.  And we were always more than just best friends. I had sisters, but Steve was my brother. Family in a way like no one else.”  
  
“And how long have you been in love with him, Buck?”  
  
Bucky took another sip of wine, this one slower, more thoughtful.  He set the glass down again and stared into the shimmering depths, twirled the stem between his fingers.  Finally, he drew a long, slow breath, and settled back in his seat.  
  
A moment ago, he’d been ready to scoff at the idea.  But in a moment of stillness, of clarity, he realized LG was right.  He was in love with Steve.  
  
“I didn’t think I was.  I kept waiting for it to happen, you know?  And when I didn’t have any kind of, I dunno, revelation?  Light bulb over my head? I figured I wasn’t. I wouldn’t be.  So it was okay that he didn’t feel that way about me, ‘cos I didn’t feel that way about him.  And there was -“  
  
“There was room for someone else.  For me.”  
  
Bucky nodded.  “I ...” He sighed.  “Yes. I like you and I enjoy spending time with you.  The last few weeks with you have been wonderful. Fun. And it was nice to have the rules clearly laid out - there’s attraction between us.  We can have this if we want it. It’s just ...”  
  
“You’re already in love.”  
  
Bucky closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger.  “I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t realize that I was. I guess because I always have been.  But I didn’t realize it because even though I realized I was attracted to him, I didn’t feel any differently toward him.  Nothing changed so I figured it was just attraction, and love might come later, but ...”  
  
“That kind of love ... it’s pretty epic.  I’m jealous, I’ll admit. If he doesn’t feel that way about you, he doesn’t deserve to be the object of that kind of love, y’know?  But I understand. The heart wants what it wants. But if you decide you’ve got room in your heart for one more, I’ll be here.”  
  
“What’re you saying, LG?”  
  
LG shrugged, sadly.  “I can’t really compete with an ideal.  I’m not saying let’s never see each other.  You pass the certification - which I know you’re going to do - we’ll be working together, after all.  And I enjoy hanging out with you. I just don’t think dating is such a good idea. Not when your heart belongs so completely to someone else.”  He lifted his glass to toast Bucky. “It was lovely to see you, but you probably want to get back on the road before the storm gets any worse. Cuddle that pup of yours.  She’s no doubt nervous with the storm approaching.”  
  
Bucky nodded, and waved the server over to pack up the rest of his meal and bring his check.  LG protested that he’d invited Bucky out for dinner, he’d pay, but Bucky refused and insisted that’s what friends did - they split the bill.  Once his meal was boxed and ready to go, and his bill was paid, he stood, pausing to kiss LG on the forehead, letting his lips linger as he whispered against his skin, “I wish it could be different.  Thank you,” before straightening and leaving the restaurant.  
  
&&&  
  
Steve’s conversation with Nat was painfully honest, at least on Nat’s part.  Once Steve had confessed his feelings about Bucky to Nat - to himself - she’d proceeded to point out all the ways in which he was a self-sacrificing idiot.  She’d even allowed herself to get emotional about it, revealing just how invested she was in Steve’s happiness. And Bucky’s.  
  
But that was the thing.  Steve knew he’d done something that broke his own heart, but he did it so Bucky could be happy.  And Bucky seemed really happy with LG. So no matter how terrible his mistake was for him, he’d live with it if that’s what made Bucky happy.  
  
Natasha pointed out that Steve Rogers was in dire need of a radical headremovedfromassectomy, stat.  
  
Part of Steve wondered what good it would do now.  Buck seemed to be enjoying his relationship with LG, and they’d obviously taken it to the next level, what with their weekend in Boston and all.  
  
Steve had already lost his opportunity to be with Bucky that way.  Realizing just how stupid he’d been wasn’t necessarily going to help his friendship with Bucky.  Supportive of Buck’s relationship with LG ... now that’s what he needed to be. Self-awareness didn’t have to play into it.  
  
Thanks to Nat’s call, Steve had been paying attention to the storm track over the past couple of days, and now that landfall was confirmed, he busied himself with pulling the furniture and things from the terrace into the house, so nothing could suddenly become a projectile.  Daisy supervised from the comfort of one of her many dog beds, barking encouragement and making faces at the damp and wind he was letting into the house. Once he had the furniture in and the doors secured, she got up, walked a circle in her bed, and laid back down with a huff.  He grinned and bowed deeply to her. “Happy to oblige, your majesty,” he chuckled.  
  
But the terrace was only one place where they left stuff.  He was left wondering how they’d managed to contain themselves in their tiny walk-up back when they were younger, considering how they seemed to spread and sprawl in the house and beyond.  And the longer they lived there, the worse they seemed to become. He really should have thought about this right after Nat’s call, and made Bucky help him with securing everything,but it was too late now.  So he shrugged on a slicker and went around the place to collect and secure anything that was loose that might become a problem - a potential projectile - in high winds.  
  
He was drenched despite the slicker, chilled despite the fact it was August, and really craving some comfort food and a bottle of Thor’s ale.  He felt rather proud of himself, being all home-ownery, preparing for the storm and being responsible. It was lonely work, doing it all by himself.  But he had no idea when or even if Buck was coming home tonight. And either way, it still had to be done before the storm hit for real.  
  
He was toweling himself off and contemplating stripping down to jump into the shower when he remembered he needed to check the balconies off each of the bedrooms.  
  
Food and ale would be his reward for a job well done.  That and a good long shower with the temp turned up to max.  
  
Finally, he’d secured all of the balconies except for Buck’s.  He felt funny about going into Bucky’s bedroom when he wasn’t there, but an unintentional invasion of privacy was better than something getting picked up by the storm, maybe even lost in the churning ocean below.  
  
Now that he was moving around the interior, Daisy’s interest had been piqued again.  And she spent as much time in Bucky’s bedroom as Bucky did. More maybe, since Bucky had been seeing LG.  
  
She trotted into the bedroom and leapt onto the bed,, where she turned around until she deemed herself facing the right direction, then she dropped down to rest her snout on her crossed paws.  
  
“You could help, you know,” he told her reasonably as she looked up at him with her soulful brown eyes.  Her tail thumped hopefully as she stared at him, and he grinned at her affectionately. He reached over and petted her head, paused to scratch behind her ears.  She closed her eyes in canine bliss, and he felt something like contentment fill his chest. When you can make a dog happy, you were doing something right. Right?  
  
The storm was getting closer.  When Steve looked up from petting Daisy, he realized that the rain was really coming down now, lashing against the windows as the wind whipped the trees and branches around wildly.  There’d be a helluva lot of debris to deal with tomorrow, and part of him was looking forward to it. Clean-up would keep him busy. He felt the need to be busy, so busy he wouldn’t have time to think about what a stupid shit he’d been.  
  
Daisy seemed to be coping okay, and Steve’s presence was probably a big reason why. He wasn’t going to linger in Buck’s bedroom, though.  He needed to secure the balcony, and then get out of Buck’s private space.  
  
There was a chair, a lounger, a small table, and a plant he didn’t remember them buying to be secured on the balcony, and that didn’t take more than a few minutes.  Long enough for Steve to feel uncomfortably cold and wet by the time he was done, and he stepped into Buck’s bathroom to grab a towel to dry off with as he stripped his sodden shirt off.  He was rubbing the towel against his hair when he looked across the floor to see the lights reflected at the other end of the house wink out.  
  
Power was out on the island, flickered, and came back.  As the storm intensified, it was likely to go out all over the island, though.  
  
That wouldn’t affect Steve, since the house was self-powered, first by a generator designed by Howard, and more recently by an arc reactor.  Tony had taken it right out of his suit when he’d visited on the fourth. He’d pulled it out, fitted it into the system that powered the house, and then taken the Quinjet back with the others.  It was typical Tony.  
  
But Steve found himself wondering if it wouldn’t be a good idea to think about repurposing Howard’s tech to support the tiny island hospital - more a doctor’s office with a surgery space.  Even decades old, Howard’s generator was superior to anything on the open market - even Tony had noted that.  
  
That was an issue for after the storm, though. There was nothing he could do now.  
  
Steve smiled at the realization that he was making plans for more of a life on Branagh.  Putting down real roots and looking toward a future here. It would be lonely when Bucky moved out, but he was only a brief Quinjet ride away from the team in New York - they’d all expressed interest in coming back, and he’d just need to make sure they did.  And he was making friends in the artist community here, at the bakery. Surely he’d make friends if he ended up teaching, too ...  
  
Finished with the towel, he dropped it in Buck’s hamper and moved to see if anything else needed to be secured.  That’s when he noticed Buck’s tablet sitting askew on his bedside table, a half-full bottle of lube, and a pile of tissues sitting next to them both.  
  
Oh.  
  
He breathed in through his nose, feeling his face flush.  Unbidden, the image of Bucky lying in bed, tablet propped so he could watch, his hand wrapped around his lube-shiny dick, working it over ... He wondered if he twisted his hand on the up stroke, or if he stripped it hard and fast.  If he squeezed at the root to hold off his orgasm, or if he rushed to completion.  
  
Wow.  He’d never allowed himself the luxury of imagining Bucky ... touching himself.  He got enough stimulation from the porn, the fanfic, and the fan art. More than enough.  He jerked off regularly, sometimes a couple of times a day. But with only the barest hint of an image of dancing gray-blue eyes, luxurious and long dark brown hair, a cleft chin.  And oh yes, a metal arm.  
  
Really, he didn’t spend a lot of time on imagining sexual acts with Bucky. That was because he was too busy imagining romance with Bucky, something that had only increased the more likely he wouldn’t have a chance at it now that Bucky was dating LG.  
  
He was distracted by a heightened whine in the wind, like souls calling out. The branches scratched a frenzied tattoo against the exterior walls, the windows.  Across the floor, he could see the lights of the island beyond flicker again, stabilize, and finally go dark.  
  
He could only hope that wherever Buck was right then, he was was dry and safe.  
  
&&&  
  
Branagh Island wasn’t a large landmass, only eighteen miles long and six miles across - a bit bigger than Nantucket, but not quite as large as Martha’s Vineyard.  It had more small villages than the other big islands, and more land devoted to farming and livestock. Howard Stark’s retreat was on the other end of the island from the port, so the distance from the harbor and the Blue Dolphin was almost twenty miles by road, considering how the roads curved and switch backed in places.  Steve ran the distance every morning in about fifteen minutes, but he was able to take shortcuts and narrow pathways, cut through backyards and stands of trees.  
  
Plus, he was Steve.  Steve loved to run, as fast as he could, because he could.  Unencumbered by faulty lungs, a crooked spine, or a traitorous heart.  And Bucky loved him then, and he loved him now. How strange to finally put a label on the feelings he’d always just thought of as “Steve.”  
  
Twenty miles was nothing by car.  Except when you were driving into a storm, a named hurricane, and you were worried sick about what you were going to find when you got to the end of your journey.  
  
At least Bucky had had the sense to leave the classics safe in the garage, and took the more modern Land Rover from the cottage.  Most of Howard’s collection pre-dated windshield wipers, let alone 4-wheel drive, and he’d felt safer and more comfortable in the Rover.  He was grateful he’d made that decision as the rain crashed around him.  
  
Navigating the streets of the harbor town was challenging, as water poured in rivulets between houses and at street corners, making the trip more like pontooning than driving.  He was nearly to the edge of town when the lights flickered and died. A moment later, they came back on, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the entire island - with the exception of his house - became a dark and dangerous alien landscape.  
  
He grit his teeth, took command of the steering wheel, and willed the car to find its way home safely.  
  
He was only a few minutes outside of town when the town went black in his rear view.  Ahead, homes blinked out and street lights went dark, plunging the world into a deep dark lit only by his headlights and the odd flash of lightning.  
  
And then the lightning proliferated, multiple strikes, one after another.  Thunder rolled overhead, booming, repeating, reverberating.  
  
The dark held, and the power did not come back again.  He knew there would be isolated homes and businesses that might switch over to generators and portable batteries, but right now, right there, the dark was all-encompassing.  Bucky’s world narrowed to the wheel in his hands, the sweeping arc of the wiper, the pinpoints of light reflecting back off the rain, and his own awareness of the world around him.  Not for the first time, he felt himself sink into the mindset of the Soldier, focused, devoid of emotion, dedicated only to the mission.  
  
The mission was to get home safely to Steve and Daisy.  
  
The view through the windshield was a stuttering, sputtering vision of the world, reminding him of early silents at the picture houses when they were small.  The universe narrowed down around him to a staccato view of nature’s violence, framed in the sweep of his windshield wipers, and illuminated in his high beams and rapidly approaching flashes of lightning.  
  
The road itself was slick, but there weren’t any significant barriers down. Branches flailed in the wind, and some small debris littered the roadway but nothing large had felled yet.  
  
He knew the route by heart by now, a well-worn path he’d followed frequently over the past few weeks of dating LG.  But nothing looked familiar in the driving rain, in the living dark.  
  
Regardless, the mission was all.  
  
&&&  
  
Steve could hear the wind howling coming down the flue.  He had a fire going in the fireplace, not so much for warmth - it was August after all - but for comfort.  There was something primal about lighting a fire as a shield against the dark. Of course, he could have just left all the lights on - the arc reactor wouldn’t be affected by the storm - but it felt more appropriate to greet the storm head on, undiluted by artificial light.  It suited his mood, too, if he was honest with himself. The darkness and the storm seemed a perfect backdrop to the disaster of his love life, the certainty that he’d made a horrible decision and cost him and Buck happiness together.  
  
But the fire took the edge off on his pity party, and cast the room with warmth, not only in temperature, but in ambience.  He had a cozy afghan he’d picked up at one of the island shops ready to wrap up in, and Daisy was curled into him for comfort, her brows scrunched up and her ears down.  A mug of tea and a bottle of ale, along with a bowl of fresh popped popcorn and a plastic container full of gourmet snacks for Daisy, and he was ready to dig in and ride out the storm.  There was even ice cream in the freezer for when he reached the point where he needed to self-medicate his woes. Daisy loved ice cream, so there would be a bowl for her, and the tub for him.  His evening was all planned out.  
  
Daisy whined softly at the roar of the wind outside, counterpointed by the grumble of thunder.  Unusual noises, disturbing air pressure, and an unnatural darkness beyond the walls all combined to make her uneasy.  He petted her and murmured softly spoken nonsense, and she looked up at him with eyes full of trust. Once again, he thanked those assholes who’d left her behind, because he couldn’t imagine a life without her any longer.  
  
He settled back against the arm of the couch, and she shuffled up to lay in the narrow space between his ribs and the back of the couch.  He pulled the afghan over them, and snuggled down with their snacks close at hand, the fire the only illumination as the storm grew closer.    
  
Looking out through the glass doors facing the ocean, he realized the storm was nearly there, blotting out the stars as it clawed toward the land, a wall of rain and wind, punctuated by lightning strikes that filled the void with diffused light.  He hugged Daisy to him to calm her nerves, crooning softly to her. She finally relaxed and started to fall asleep, her tail wagging just a little before she quieted and began to snore.  
  
&&&  
  
As the wind picked up, more and more small branches were sheered off to litter the roads.  Bucky could feel the crunch as the Rover’s wheels went over the debris, and he was grateful nothing larger had managed to fall in his path yet.  He was grateful for the vehicle’s 4-wheel drive, the way it gripped slick surfaces and didn’t give up. He’d hydroplaned through deep puddles more than once, even debated a detour when he’d come on an area with black water extending across the road so far it disappeared into the darkness.  Finally, he’d committed to just see it through, and the car had powered through the deep like a motorboat, and come out the other end up onto relatively dry pavement.  
  
He wondered if the pilots of the ships that landed at Omaha had felt like that at all, surging through the water and then up onto beach, caught in their own onslaught.  Granted, Bucky was facing the fury of Mother Nature, not the Axis hail of artillery, but it was all he could do to keep the flashbacks at bay. He swore he could see Hydra tanks flanking him in the dark, the blue energy of the Tesseract fueled weapons preparing to fire.  
  
He was going to need some serious therapeutic Daisy time when he got to the house.  He hadn’t expected driving through the storm to connect to his PTSD, to his fragmented memories of the war, the front.  To his first encounter with Hydra.  
  
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, and his fingers were starting to feel numb where he held the steering wheel so tightly.  But he was close, he could feel it.  
  
Finally the gateway was ahead, standing open as he’d left it.  He pulled into the driveway, rode past the silent, darkened cottage, and up toward the main house.  The automatic shutters hadn’t engaged yet, but as the storm made landfall, the house would react to air pressure and trigger the shutters to entomb the house inside blast-proof plates of even thicker vibranium infused glass.  Wisps of smoke puffed out of the chimney, only to be snatched away by the wind. The trees, so much taller than in Howard’s day, snapped back and forth in the melee, the denuded branches looking like claws scrabbling through the night.  
  
Offshore, the mass of the storm hung over the ocean like a predator about to pounce.  
  
It looked hungry.  It looked primeval.  He felt like he was looking into the maw of the abyss, and it had come to consume all that he loved.  
  
He’d swapped a couple of the cars around earlier so he could park the Land Rover closer to the house, so Bucky pulled into the garage and secured the door.  Then he made his way through the basement and up into the residence.  
  
He entered the living room, its corners cast in shadow by the flickering firelight.  He didn’t see Steve at first, but he heard him, speaking quietly, calmly. He realized that Steve was talking to Daisy, probably trying to soothe her nerves as the storm raged outside.    
  
“How’s she doing?”  
  
“She’s scared, but she’s been sleeping.  What’re you doing home so early?”  
  
There, he’d placed Steve on one of the sofas, the one facing the terrace and the oncoming storm. He heard him stir, saw him extricate himself and lean over to pet the dog back to sleep.  Then he appeared bathed in gold as he walked toward Bucky, and Bucky felt like he couldn’t breathe.  
  
He couldn’t move either.  He stood there, immobile, staring at Steve as he took a few steps forward and then stopped, waiting for Bucky to answer.  He shook himself inwardly. “Wanted to get home while I still could. Roads are okay so far, but who knows once this thing hits us, huh?  Kinda stupid to be out on a night like this.”  
  
Now they were facing each other, caught in the nimbus of light thrown off by the fire.  “Oh. I, uh, I figured you’d just stay out. Stay with him. The night. I, um ...”  
  
Bucky’s heart broke then.  Steve sounded so small, so ... hurt.  Hope found kindling and ignited in his chest again.  He stood up a little taller, a little more confident.  “Yeah, that was on offer. I realized I wasn’t ready. Plus I was worried about her majesty.  And you.”  
  
Steve straightened slightly, and Bucky realized he hadn’t even noticed how Steve had been drawn forward, inward, hunched, as though protecting his soft underbelly.  Had been for weeks. “Oh. Oh - um, did you eat? I can make something -“  
  
“Yeah.  Had dinner.  Brought most of it home.  Headed home. Look, Steve -“  
  
They were interrupted then by an impossibly loud crack, an echoing report, and without thinking, Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulders and threw him on the ground, then threw himself on top, blanketing Steve and blocking him from the sniper that suddenly appeared in his imagination.  
  
Another crack, a reverberating thud, a smash, and another thud, this one closer than the last, and Bucky was starfished to cover as much of Steve as possible, his forearms bracketing Steve’s head, his face close to Steve’s, sharing air, breath warm and moist and far too close.  
  
And yet, not close enough when Steve’s hands smoothed up Bucky’s arms, caressed over his shoulders, and slid up his neck and into his hair, and suddenly, Bucky felt himself being drawn downward.  
  
And then there were lips touching his, and he was distilled down to flame and touch and want.  
  
&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When doing chapter breaks, it’s always a challenge to find a good break point and not be entirely mean. Kinda think I succeeded here ...
> 
> I know folks are waiting to binge on the full story, but since it clocks in at over 50,000 words and there’s only one more chapter to go, you might wanna start now ... :P
> 
> And you do know the drill - I write for comments! :)


	5. See Me, See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all been leading to this ...
> 
> As the storm rages on, Steve finally learns not to let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride this has been! So yeah, if you’ve been waiting to binge read ... your time is now.

Bucky stood there, gilded in firelight, a sight like nothing Steve had ever beheld before.     
  
Beautiful.  Dangerous. Everything Steve had ever wanted.    
  
He was everything Steve had ever wanted.    
  
Steve hadn’t just missed Bucky, didn’t suspect he desired Bucky.    
  
Steve loved Bucky.  Bucky was Steve’s person.  
  
Steve realized this truth between one breath and the next.  
  
His eyes widened even as mundane words came out of his mouth, as his body unfurled in the presence of the man who meant more to him than breath, more than even the precious gift he’d received so many years before.  
  
Azzano and Kreischberg suddenly made sense.  
  
The Valkyrie.  
  
The Triskelion and the collapse of SHIELD.  
  
The chase around the world.  
  
The tiny apartment in Budapest.  
  
Months of recovery. Years of holding each other through PTSD-fueled nightmares, episodes.  
  
Not once had it ever occurred to Steve Rogers to live without Bucky Barnes.  Until he stupidly set him free to find love with another.  
  
Bucky was saying something, took a step toward him, and there was a loud noise, like the report of a weapon, and Bucky was there, grasping him by the shoulders, tossing him to the floor, and covering him with his body, protecting him from enemy fire that never came.  
  
Steve was human, despite the serum and the enhancements that had cured his ailments and caused his body to regenerate at a sometimes alarming rate.  
  
Steve was human, and subject to the weaknesses of the flesh.  
  
Steve was human.  With the warmth and weight of Bucky Barnes shielding him, protecting him, bracketing him, his face mere inches from Steve’s, his breath warm and real and very much there, Steve found he was all too human.  
  
He knew that Bucky was with LG.  But in that moment, it didn’t matter to him.  He was human and he was selfish, and Bucky was right there.  Steve might not ever have this chance again. And so his hands moved without his conscious thought, reaching up, touching, caressing.  His fingers found their way into Bucky’s hair, drawing him closer.  
  
As inevitable as the storm that raged around them, his lips found Bucky’s.  
  
And for the first time, Steve Rogers felt complete.  
  
&&&  
  
“Do you really want this?” Bucky whispered urgently, his flesh fingers running through molten heat along the curve of Steve’s cheek.  
  
“I’ve been beyond stupid, Buck.  I want this. I want you. I love you.”  
  
“Oh, thank fuck,” Bucky breathed, “because I love you, too.”  
  
Bucky’s lips were nearly touching Steve’s again when he squeaked out, “LG?”  
  
“History,” Bucky grunted, and they were kissing again.  
  
When they parted grudgingly to breathe, Steve said, “Sorry?”  
  
“Don’t be.  He’s not you.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Bucky couldn’t help it, he had to laugh.  He pressed his nose against Steve’s neck, chuckling helplessly.  “Okay?” he repeated into Steve’s skin.  
  
Steve’s hands smoothed back his hair that had come undone by his fingers, cradled his face gently.  “Okay,” Steve said again, with an odd sort of conviction, the type of conviction Bucky recognized from a life spent with this man. The conviction of total commitment.  Bucky felt suddenly breathless, humbled, ecstatic. “I’m here, and I’m all in, Buck. All in,” he whispered, his thumb dragging across Bucky’s lower lip, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.  
  
Bucky turned to kiss Steve’s thumb, smiled against the finger, and closed his eyes.  “It’s only ever been you, Steve. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved, the only person I ever wanted to love.  I’m all in, too. ‘Til -”  
  
“- the end of the line,” they both promised in unison, then smiled at each other.  
  
“I think there are too many layers in the way,” Steve pointed out then, ran his hand down Bucky’s back, and plucked at the hem of his shirt.  
  
Bucky sat up, groaning at the sensation of his hard dick pressing against the fly of his dress pants.  He shifted to sit back on Steve’s thighs to take off his shirt, and realized that he was pressing back against an equally hard - and deliciously large - erection.  He grinned down at Steve, making a show of unbuttoning his shirt, but Steve wasn’t having that. With a growl, Steve grabbed the tail of Bucky’s shirt and ripped.  
  
“I liked that shirt,” Bucky protested, pulling away the tattered remains of the shirt.  
  
“I’ll buy you another.  Less talk, more skin,” he demanded.  
  
Bucky could feel the heat in his answering smirk as he shifted back just a little more to purposely grind down on Steve’s hard-on. Those beautiful blue eyes widened in delighted surprise, so Bucky did it again, earning him a sharp indrawn breath as Steve bit down on his lower lip.  “Like the way that feels?”  
  
“God yes.  Why are you still wearing clothes?”  
  
“Why are you, punk?” Bucky demanded, and leaned forward and with his prosthetic hand, he tore Steve’s t-shirt right up the middle, grinning.  “Off, dammit!”

* * *

 

Stucky Stick Figure Porn by Deb Walsh

* * *

Bucky rose up on his knees to pull off his own undershirt, and reveled in the way Steve looked up at him, his expression hungry, his hands reaching to caress the planes of his abs, sliding up over his ribs, pausing to cup his pecs, letting his thumbs graze over his nipples.  Bucky felt a direct connection from his nips to his dick, the sudden twitch in his pants making him laugh out loud. Then Steve slid backward, sat up, shrugged off his torn t-shirt, and enveloped Bucky in his arms, and they were kissing, naked chests pressed together, as hands roamed possessively over bare skin heated by lust and the flickering flames.

“Why are we still wearing pants?” Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky didn’t have a good answer.  There was no good answer for why either of them still had any clothes on. What was a good idea was for Bucky to lever himself up, dragging Steve with him, until they were standing before the fire, unable to stop kissing and caressing and losing themselves in each other.  But pants. Pants should be shed now. They needed to be history.

Without breaking their lip lock, both of them stepped back slightly so their pants were accessible, and as one, they each went after the other’s fly.  Steve had Bucky’s zipper down, the button at the top of his slacks undone, and the slacks themselves shoved down to Bucky’s ankles before Bucky undid the first of Steve’s buttons on his jeans.  Bucky toed his shoes off and kicked the pants away.

“From now on, sweatpants all the time,” Bucky breathed against Steve’s lips as he struggled with the other buttons, practically weeping his frustration until he got the last one and stepped back to yank the jeans down.  Steve had already taken his shoes off earlier, so it was a simple matter to step out of the jeans and kick them under the sofa.

“Naked,” Steve corrected.  “Naked all the time is good.”

Bucky pulled back then, and let his eyes take in the sight in front of him. Strong, lean legs, tapering up to powerful thighs.  Boxers, huh? And that dick Bucky had been longing to see? There it was, the shiny head and part of the hard shaft peeking through the fly on those boxers, a trail of damp on the edge of the fabric.  Bucky lifted his eyes away from the prize with difficulty, but he wanted to see everything there was to see, from the deep cut of Steve’s Adonis belt, the trail of golden hair, his navel, those abs, and the divots of his ribs, those incredible tits - call ‘em what they were - the dusky rose of the hardened nubs of his nipples, the breathtaking breadth of his shoulders ...

The hungry look on his face, the predatory gleam in those blue-black eyes.  The tip of his tongue sweeping across his kiss-swollen lip.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispered.

“I ... no, Buck.  You’re the one who’s -”

Bucky reached for Steve’s hand and tugged him closer.  “It’s not a competition. We can both be beautiful.” He bit his lip and glanced back down at the boxers that weren’t really covering anything anymore.  “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I touch your dick, Steve?” he said flatly, but a chuckle broke loose in his voice.  “Can I see it?”

“I guess,” Steve answered, suddenly looking shy.  “I mean, yes, please,” he corrected himself.

“So formal.  Then, thank you, sir, don’t mind if I do,” Bucky answered with a fond smile.

Bucky stepped a little closer still, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Steve’s boxers, and shoved them down.  They slid down his legs to fall around his ankles, and Steve stepped out of them, and toed them aside. Bucky’s fingers curled around the length of Steve’s dick, his thumb sliding up under the frenulum, around the crown, and through the dribble of pre-cum.  It was blood hot, silky soft, stretched over steel, and the weight of it in his hand ...

With his other hand, he shoved at his own underwear, and then he felt Steve’s warm hands take control and slide his briefs down.  He stepped out of them as he walked Steve toward the other couch, the one where Daisy wasn’t snoring. Steve went willingly, walking backward as his eyes roamed Bucky’s face, while Bucky’s hand stroked gently up and down the shaft of Steve’s cock.

“That feels really good,” Steve said, his face looking a little dazed.

“Gonna feel better,” Bucky promised.  “You can touch me if you want,” he added hopefully.

“I ... yeah,” Steve breathed, and that’s when Bucky finally felt his big warm palm take hold of his cock, fingers probing gently as he tried to figure out the angle where it was so different from touching himself.  

They’d reached the couch and Bucky shoved Steve down onto the couch cushion.  He glanced down and took in the sight of Steve Rogers with his hand on his dick, Steve’s own cock smacking against his stomach as he settled onto the cushion.  Bucky reached out and caressed Steve’s cheek, ran his thumb across his lower lip, and smiled. “God, I love you.”

Before Steve had a chance to reply, Bucky straddled his lap, spat in his hand, resumed stroking Steve’s cock, and grabbed the back of Steve’s head with his other hand to haul him in for another sizzling kiss.

Steve’s hands settled on Bucky’s ass, so he opened his grip to press his own dick against Steve’s as he stroked.

“Oh.  Oh God,” Steve swore as their pricks rubbed against each other.  “Fuck.”

“Not tonight, babe.  We got so much to learn about each other’s body’s first.  Let’s just enjoy this, huh? We got all night. Hell, we got a lifetime or two.”

Steve nodded, leaning up to capture Bucky’s lips again.  They kissed, deep and sensual, as Bucky’s hand worked them over, a little dry, but oh so good as he kept catching their pre-cum to spread over their shafts.  Steve’s hands continued to explore Bucky’s body as Bucky’s hand squeezed and stroked, as Bucky rocked into the sensation, and Steve gasped his appreciation.

Steve pulled away from Bucky’s lips to mouth at Bucky’s pec, lick across his nipple and suck it into his mouth.

Bucky hadn’t known just how much he liked it until he found himself pressing his chest against Steve’s mouth, murmuring encouragement as his hand sped up on their cocks.

He felt the tension build in Steve’s body, felt him start to draw in on himself as his breathing came in rapid, ragged gasps.  

“Look at me,” Bucky demanded, his own voice sounding shattered even to him.  “I wanna see you when you come for me,” he added, and Steve looked up sharply, his blown pupils making his blue eyes look completely gone, his mouth open and his color high.  Even with only firelight, Bucky could see the deep blush stain Steve’s cheeks, reach down his neck to his chest, and extend all the way down to his groin where the head of his cock was a shiny, angry red, weeping pre-cum as he fisted it alongside his own equally needy dick.

Steve nodded, keeping his eyes focused on Bucky as Bucky brought them both closer and closer.  Steve’s expression started to crumple, to look pained, but Bucky realized he was on the edge of his orgasm, fighting to keep his eyes open and directed at Bucky.  “Come on, baby. Come for me,” Bucky demanded, his arm working fast now, his strokes just this side of painful as he urged them both to the edge.

And then the edge was there.  And they were flying over it together, Bucky’s voice a rising keen as Steve grunted uh-uh-uh, fighting to keep his eyes locked on Bucky’s, fighting to keep from curling in on himself to ride out his climax.

Come spattered hot and wet against their abs, blurting over Bucky’s fist and dribbling down onto Steve’s thighs.  It eased the sting then, more lubrication as Bucky continued to stroke them through the aftershocks, squeezing the head of Steve’s dick to pull every last drop out of him, and then doing the same to himself.  

He couldn’t believe he actually had the brain cells to do that, considering the electric pulse radiating out from his groin, the fizz that boiled through his blood.  The sudden drowsiness as his body processed the orgasm and all the lovely hormones released by it. He felt floaty, sated. Happy and warm. Cuddly.

And frustrated.  “Ugh, we gotta put out the fire.  And clean up. And -“

Steve’s arms slid up his back and drew him into a languorous kiss with a delicious play of tongue and lips.  Bucky realized he loved kissing Steve Rogers. He planned to do a lot of it.

“Cuddle first.”

Steve wasn’t always known for his great ideas.  Oh, he was a master tactician. But his ideas off the battlefield were often not so great.  

But cuddling? After sex?  A-plus idea. He grabbed one of the throw pillows, asking, “You don’t care about this one, do you?”  Steve shook his head, so he used it to wipe away the jizz on each of their stomachs, then tossed it to the floor.  Then he snagged the throw from the back of the sofa and pulled it over them and they both slid down to rest on the cushions, Bucky curled up against Steve’s side, his arms around him, the throw wrapped around them both.

It was only then that Bucky realized the storm still howled outside, rain hitting the shutters like mortar shells.  The room lit up like enemy fire when lightning strikes hit nearby, and the thunder boomed like ground to air artillery. Inside, the fire crackled, and they heard a little woof, a snuffle, and a sneeze, and Miss Daisy began to snore again.  

Bucky smiled against Steve’s chest, slid his hand up to turn Steve’s face toward him, and craned his neck so he could kiss Steve softly, gently.  Then he snuggled down to doze in the arms of the man he loved, finally sure that he was loved in return.

&&&

The storm still battered the house, wind a living thing as rain slammed into the windows and pummeled the landscape.  The fire had burned out, dropping the room into a gloomy darkness lit only by the strikes of lightning around them.

Bucky stirred in Steve’s arms, rubbed his cheek against the smooth skin of his pec.  Soft skin stretched over taut muscle, with just the right amount of give. Plush. He could get addicted to the feel of Steve against his skin.

And damn, but he planned to.

“Steve?” he whispered, nuzzling along the curve of his chest, inhaling the earthy-spicy scent of him.

Oh yeah.  He was already addicted.

“Mmm?” came the sleepy response, and Bucky felt a ripple of muscle as Steve adjusted under him.  “Oh,” Steve added, his voice laced with wonder. “It ... it really happened.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Bucky agreed, nosing at the nipple nearest him.  “Really, really did.” He flicked out his tongue to tease at the nub, pleased at the sharp intake of breath from Steve, and the pleased hum that followed.  

Sensitive tits.  Check.

He smiled at the hard little bud, placed a kiss on it, and then settled his chin on Steve’s pec to regard him with eyes that danced with mischief.  “Y’know how the fan fiction goes on about how the serum lets us go again and again?”

Steve smiled softly.  “Mmm-hmm.”

“Wanna give it a try?”

At that, Steve’s eyes snapped open, and his attention was immediately focused on Bucky, fully alert.  “Bed?”

Bucky blew on the nipple then and smiled.  “With lube.”

A funny expression passed across Steve’s face - pain, embarrassment, contrition?  “Yeah. I saw. When I was bringing everything inside. Um -”

Ah.  A supposed invasion of privacy.  His gentlemanly punk. “S’okay. Thanks for taking care of stuff.  Thanks for letting me figure my shit out -”

“Thank you.  Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Bucky lifted himself up from where he lay on top of Steve, immediately feeling unbalanced and incomplete.  But if they wanted to explore more, a bigger surface was needed. And that meant actually moving. “Like that was ever an option.  C’mon - gotta take a piss. And then there are some things I wanna try.”

“Okay.  Lemme just make sure the fire is out and I’ll be there.”

“Oh, trust me.  This is one fire that’s never going out.”

“We’re gonna be one of them, huh?”

“What?”

“The couple who can’t get enough cheese.”

“Oh, count on it.  Now hurry that sweet ass of yours - I got plans for it!”

&&&

Bucky trotted up the stairs to the bedrooms, feeling buoyed and lighter than he could ever remember feeling.  Well, maybe except for his ninth birthday, when Steve wasn’t sick, and Ma had let him stay over the night of Bucky’s birthday.  He smiled, realizing this was a newly recovered memory, and a good one at that. It had been a perfect day, clear weather, not too hot, not too cold, blue skies smiling down on Brooklyn.  There’d been a cake, and presents, and music played on the upright piano in the parlor. The Crash was still three years into the future, and life for the Barnes family was good. But best of all, there’d been Steve.  They’d talked all night, listened to the radio and thrilled to superheroes and spies, their imaginations on fire with possibilities. Steve had drawn him his own comic as a gift, and Bucky had written him a story in exchange.  And then they’d cuddled into Bucky’s bed, whispered secrets into the dark.

Bucky’d had a funny dream about Steve that night, something he hadn’t understood.  Just off, somehow. Bucky realized now that that dream was probably the beginnings of Bucky’s body reacting to Steve, but he hadn’t had the context to realize that.

He smiled to himself.  He’d realized that there probably had never been a time when Bucky didn’t love Steve in some fashion.  They were destined to be together.

And now they were.

The bedrooms were all dark, and outside the vibranium reinforced windows and transparent shutters, the world was gripped by an even deeper dark.  No lights as far as the eye could see. Maybe across the harbor in Boston they still had power, but the grid of Branagh was down. And it was late enough that even places that had their own generators were probably conserving power and had their lights off.

It made their little oasis of comfort feel like an island in itself, calm, quiet, still a semblance of normal.  Outside, the world was chaos, loud, unbridled, a maelstrom of fury and darkness. Inside, his boyfriend - if that’s what he was - still said thank you for touching his dick, and his dog snored on a sofa all her own.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

As he came into his bedroom, he could see the storm raging outside.  He wasn’t sure if they were in the path of the eye, or if they were riding the storm in the wall, but the view of the world seemed to stop right at the windows, amorphous lightning sparking somewhere in the darkness as rain sheeted down the windows. There’d be a helluva clean-up to follow.  And he and Steve would do what they could to help. Because over the past few months, this island and its inhabitants had opened their hearts to them, offered them everything that made it what it was, and had made it home.

He took care of business, washed his hands, and came back out into the bedroom to find Steve standing there, looking awkward and uncomfortable.  He smiled. Guy could punch a tank and take on a platoon of enemy soldiers, but even after all this time, he still wasn’t fully comfortable in his own skin.

“So I was thinking,” Bucky began, striding across the room to bring him to right in front of Steve.  “Maybe tomorrow, you should move your things in here. It has the best view, after all.”

“Any room with you in it has the best view.”

“See, I’m not the only one with cheese.  But seriously, I want us to be together, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I want it, Buck.  I want anything you’ll let me have.”

“You know I’ll give you everything, right?  I don’t wanna hold back anymore, Steve. But ... maybe this isn’t the right time to ask, but we’re gonna have to figure it out at some point.”

“Yeah?”

“What are we?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Are we boyfriends?  Lovers? Soulmates. What are we to each other?”

“We’re what we’ve always been.  More than boyfriends, lovers, or soulmates.  We’re SteveandBucky. Only now with more dicks.”

“All the dicks?”

“The best dicks.”

Bucky smiled and the next thing he knew, his hands were resting on Steve’s cheeks and they were kissing again.  And this time, they were conveniently naked already.

&&&

Thump.

Thump.  Thump. Thump.

ThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThump.

Bucky opened one eye to see the doggy smile that greeted him every morning.  Daisy was curled at the foot of the bed, her head resting on her paws as she wagged her tail hopefully.

The room was bathed in rosy gold light, a pure, rain washed light that baptized the day as perfect and new.  And then he saw them.

“Steve,” he nudged gently.  “Wake up, Stevie. Y’gotta see this.”

Steve stirred, stretched and muttered, but didn’t wake.  Bucky placed his hand on his chest and shook him gently. “Babe, you’d hate to miss this.”

“Mmm?”

“Open your eyes and look out the window.”

One eye opened, glanced at him, the corners crinkling as Steve smiled at him.  “Morning.”

“Window. You don’t wanna miss this.”

Steve’s attention shifted, and his mouth opened in wordless wonder.

“This” was dawn, reaching up to the sky and across the calm face of the ocean, a new day birthed under the twin arcs of two rainbows stretching across their view.  Where they’d passed out in the dark after hours of pleasure, they woke now to a world awash in color, gilded in gold and burnished in silver.

“Oh.”

Bucky brushed his lips against Steve’s cheek.  “I didn’t want you to miss it.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t let me.  Oh, God, Buck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”

Bucky smiled, tracing the line of Steve’s jaw with his fingertip.  “I have.”

Steve turned his face then, his smile breaking free with a radiance that outshone that blazing star and the rainbows that embraced it.

“You’re a sap.”

“I’m a sap who needs to take a leak, get her majesty out to do her business, and take a picture of that sunrise before it’s over.  No one’d believe us if we told them without proof.”

Steve half rolled over, his arms slid around Bucky’s middle and pulled him close so he could nuzzle against Bucky’s cheek.  “Fine, but then you’re coming back to bed. Too early to be up.”

“Says the man who runs to the harbor every morning while I’m still out.”

“Yeah, well.  I’m hoping I can persuade you.  And I’m betting my run wouldn’t be so easy today.  But mostly I just wanna cuddle.”

“Just cuddle?’

“Well ...”

“I thought so. All right, let me take care of her ladyship, and I’ll be back to ‘cuddle’, big boy.”

“Hmmm,” Steve smiled sleepily.  Bucky slid out the other side of the bed, took care of his own business, then cajoled Daisy to follow him downstairs so he could take her out.  He snagged his phone on the way because he really did want to document the incredible show Mother Nature had put on, and he was grateful to get a few shots before the sky subtly shifted from dawn to day.

Standing on the terrace overlooking the ocean, he could see evidence of the violence of the storm, but the house had faced the heart of the hurricane, and it still stood, proud, intact, and theirs.

Once Daisy had satisfied herself that everything was acceptable to her royal nose, they went back inside, and Bucky took the stairs back to his bedroom two at a time.

There was someone special waiting for him there.

&&&

By mid-morning, Bucky had already become addicted to the sounds that Steve made when he touched him a certain way, when he stroked his cock, and when he came.  He loved to swallow the moans and the gasps with kisses, deep and hungry. He didn’t think he would ever tire of exploring his incredible body, of finding all the ways to give him pleasure, to show how much he loved and craved him.

And Steve had proved to be a quick study, too, curious and impish in his approach to sex.  Once the barriers were down, Steve was a generous lover, fun and adventurous, and most definitely himself - which meant that sometimes, he really was a little shit.

Their sex life promised to never be dull.

They’d experimented and tested, trying to figure out what felt good, and what each other liked.  They hadn’t ventured into anything penetrative yet, and they weren’t on any kind of timetable to get there.  For now, they just went with what felt good, what felt natural, and chose to avoid any kind of pressure.

They really didn’t have anyone to impress, but they did have each other for support and encouragement.

They were nearly out of lube, and both of them were hungry, so they’d reached a point where crawling out of bed seemed a good idea.  And besides, they were a little gross, sticky and crusty from numerous orgasms, slippery with lube, and just generally in need of a long hot shower, preferably together, possibly with blow jobs.

And ugh, the sheets.  Definitely a laundry day.  But first, shower. And blow jobs.

&&&

After shower and yes, blow jobs, they dressed, stripped the bed, started a load of laundry, and set about making breakfast.

“Pancakes.”

“Pancakes?”

“You make decent pancakes, Steve.  So you get to make breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, I do, huh?”

“Yep,” Bucky answered, popping the P.

“Fine.  You set the table, I’ll make the pancakes.  You can be in charge of coffee, too, okay?”

And so they danced around each other in the kitchen to make their morning meal, their first as an actual couple.  And it really didn’t feel any different than any other meal they’d made, except now they could touch, and look, and exchange quick kisses that promised more later.   And when they were done, they moved seamlessly into clean-up, little need for discussion, because they’d been partners for so long, they often didn’t need words.

And when everything was put away or drying on the draining board, Bucky looked at Steve and asked, “What now?”

“I wanna go into town, see how things are.  See if we’re needed.”

“Bike or Land Rover?”

“Bike’s more maneuverable.”

“Bike it is.”

“Yeah, but Buck, there’s no sidecar - “

“Sidecars are for wusses.  And people who are too stupid to realize that sidecars are fucking uncomfortable and uncool in any era.  I’m riding behind you, stud, with my arms around that ridiculous waist of yours and my dick pressed against that perfect ass.  And if we need to pull off to the side of the road for a quickie, y’know, I wouldn’t say no.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Bucky Barnes,” Steve said affectionately, smoothing back a strand of hair that had come loose from Bucky’s man-bun.  “That sounds really, really good. But I don’t think I’m up for doing it up against a tree.”

“Okay, pin in that idea until we get a decent sleeping bag or something we can tie up on the back of the bike for emergency sex.  Wouldn’t wanna chafe that beautiful ass.”

Steve blushed, and Bucky grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him close to plant a searing kiss.  “Some day you’re gonna have to learn not to blush when we talk about body parts, babe. Because those body parts are gonna be a big part of our lives goin’ forward.”

“Old habits.  I promise I’ll replace them with new.  ‘Cos I like your ass, too,” Steve replied, breathing a little hard.

“Damn right you do.  Now let’s get going. Daisy, you’re in charge.  We’ll be back before dark. Right?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, maybe we can grill something, huh?  Unless any place is open in town and we can get takeout.  But, yeah, let’s get going.”

&&&

They made their way harbor-ward, stopping at homes along the way to check in on their neighbors.  Mostly, they found people in good spirits, working together to clear the debris left behind by the storm. They pitched in to move big limbs, and Bucky’s eyes glazed over a little when he watched one of their neighbors cut a limb a good foot in diameter with a chainsaw.  “I want one,” he breathed, and Steve had to laugh. Of course he did. He’d packed up most of his knife collection and kept it in a safe in Howard’s study. But that didn’t mean he’d given up his affection for things that cut other things.

It took them a while, but they finally made their way into town, and stopped at the little hospital/surgical center on the main drag.  They were running on a generator that was chugging away reliably for the moment, but Steve mentioned his idea for repurposing Howard’s old generator to Bucky, and Bucky approved it whole-heartedly.

There were a few people sitting in the waiting room, pending their turns with the doctor.  The island was lucky - there hadn’t been any fatalities, and most of the injuries were from clean-up today, not the storm the night before.  When Steve asked if there was anything they could do to help, the office manager looked like she wanted to cry.

“We’ve got a couple of patients who need meds, but they can’t get in to us. Would you be willing ... ?”

“To deliver?  Absolutely. Point us where you want us to go.  We can check on them, too, and see if they need any assistance.”

“Oh, God, that would be perfect.”  And then she organized some packages for delivery, and provided instructions.  Then the boys were off again.

The deliveries and check-ins took up most of the rest of the day, but by the time they finished the errands for the hospital, they both felt like they’d done a good day’s work.  They’d cleared a lot of felled limbs and debris, made temporary repairs to a window, a door, and a weather vane, made tea and sandwiches for several elderly patients who were actually younger than either of them, and generally made themselves useful wherever they saw a need.

They were heading back to town when they saw it - a Quinjet, streaking overhead and headed for their place.

“Shit,” Bucky swore, and they were on the bike and racing back home.

&&&

By the time they got to the house, they found Daisy barking excitedly, but no one at the house itself.  They took the elevator down to the beach level, only to find Tony Stark standing at the edge of jetty, dressed in a suit, and commanding an army of bots as they cleaned up the beach.  When he saw them come out of the elevator, he grinned. Behind him, the Quinjet’s landing bay slid open. He held up a remote control, pressed one button, and out of the Quinjet floated a hovering Jaguar, just like Bucky had asked for.  While Bucky lost his shit over the flying car, Tony pulled another remote out of his pocket, and pressed a button on that one, too. A moment later, a hovering motorcycle glided smoothly down the ramp. It looked like a top of the line Harley - Steve’s very own hover bike.

“Figured you fellas could use some help with the clean-up. Seemed a perfect time to drop off these little toys.  So. Did I do good, or did I do good?”

“Better’n Howard ever did, that’s for sure.  She’s a beauty, Tony. I ... don’t know how to thank you enough -”

“You just declared me better than my Dad.  That’s good enough. How ‘bout you, Cap?”

“I agree.  Howard would’a gone for more flash, less function.  And not Cap. Steve. And I love it, too. Thanks, Tony.  For everything.”

“Not Cap, huh?”

“Cap’s retired.  Steve’s about to start a new career.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just call him ‘Mister Rogers’,” Bucky answered with a snicker.

“I’d’a been proud to know Fred Rogers, you jerk.  But yeah, Buck and me - we’re going to be teachers come fall.”

“Assuming we pass the certification exam.”

Steve shot a withering look at Bucky, but it wasn’t heartfelt, and he smiled to take the sting out.  “We’ll know soon. But I kinda think we both aced it.”

“Teachers, huh?  Molding the minds of America’s youth.  Well, I can’t imagine them in better hands, Rogers.  As for Barnes, though, I dunno.”

“Funny man.  You stayin’ for dinner?  Blue Dolphin’s open for business.  Or we could cook ...”

“I could eat.”

“Great, let’s fly the Jag!”

Because, yes.  This was their life now.

&&&

**Late September**

“So.  Rogers.”

“Nat.”

“How’s connubial bliss these days?”

“Not married yet, Nat.  But otherwise, pretty fucking great.”

“Yet.  Huh. So you’re thinking about it.”

“Be a fool not to.  But ... not time yet.  We’re still figuring ourselves out.  Don’t need any more pressure, y’know?”

“And how do you feel about a mission, something to break the monotony?”

“Life’s not monotonous, Nat.  New challenge every day.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“No.  Never been happier, honestly.  I never knew it was possible to fall in love with a life.  But I have.”

“A life?”

“A partner I love and who loves me.  Friends who don’t care that I was a government science experiment.  Nobody shooting at me, nobody I gotta hurt. And kids, Nat. Lots of kids who greet me every day with wide open imaginations and such a love for living, it takes my breath away.  And trust me, I know what it feels like to be unable to breathe.”

“Think we always forget that about you.  That you weren’t always ... you.”

“I was always me.  I just wasn’t always Cap.  And Cap is retired now.”

“Really?”

“Really and truly.”

“There’s nothing I can do to entice you back?”

“If I’m really needed, I mean really needed, then I’d be betraying the gift Dr. Erskine gave me if I said no.  But you don’t need me.”

“Maybe not.  But I can miss you, can’t I?”

“And you don’t need the Avengers to come hang out. You all are welcome, but you’re welcome just you, too.”  

“No bad associations?”

“You’n’me, we faced some tough challenges.  Some difficult times. But that doesn’t reflect on you, or our friendship.  I didn’t realize you didn’t understand that. You’re always welcome here, Nat.  And if we need some privacy ‘cos we can’t keep our hands to ourselves, well, that’s what doors are for.”

“And soundproofing.”

Steve chuckled at that.  “Not gonna apologize for being loud with my fella.  But we can maybe keep it down when you visit.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll see you soon, Rogers.”

“Counting on it, Nat.”

&&&

**Late November - Thanksgiving**

“Never thought I’d find myself here again, and yet.  Third time this year.”

“And we’re happy to have you, Tony. All of you.  We’re thrilled to have you all to ourselves,” Steve said as he raised his glass.

“This Thanksgiving ritual,” Thor commented as he looked around the table at the assembled Avengers, Happy Hogan, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, and Phil Coulson.  “It is an idea with much merit. How did it come to be?”

Bucky cleared his throat.  “I went over this with my kids before we broke for the holiday.  Unfortunately, its roots are found in a terrible history, Thor. The exploitation and destruction of a Native people by settlers - usurpers, really.  But the idea of a day spent with loved ones, giving thanks for the good in our lives? That’s a keeper.”

“Ah, yes.  History is most often written by the winners, at the expense of those they subjugate.  Then let us raise our glasses to the Native people, and honor their memory.”

They all joined him, glasses clinking as they touched rims.

“So you’re not shying away from some of the uglier truths of American history,” Pepper noted as she put her glass down next to her plate.

Bucky shook his head.  “Some of our kids are descendants of those same Native societies.  I gotta say, one of the things I like about the school curriculum here is that they’re not trying to whitewash history.  Some of the units for the older kids are pretty tough - hard to take, emotionally draining. But if we ignore what’s come before, how do we make sure it doesn’t happen again?  How do we prevent the rise of organizations like AIM and Hydra if we ignore the evil men do?”

Steve beamed at Bucky then, and reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Well, you two have become the disgustingly adorable couple, haven’t you?”  

Steve turned to Tony then, and smiled benignly.  “Damn right, Tony,” he agreed.

“And for that, I am thankful,” Bucky added, and he lifted his glass again in toast.  Everyone joined him.

&&&

**Late December - Christmas Morning**

“Mmmm.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled.”

Bucky snorted softly, rolling his head slightly against Steve’s shoulder.  They were sitting up in bed, the lights still off, watching snow drift past their bedroom window.  Steve had gotten up and made some hot chocolate, which Bucky was enjoying very much. Daisy was in her appointed place, curled up at the foot of the bed, her tail thumping every so often when she’d drift up through sleep to recognize her humans were close by.

“I like this better than a Nor’Easter,” Bucky said softly, blowing over the surface of his hot chocolate.  “Prettier.”

“Less damage, too.  Better for the island.”

“Mmm.  So we got our white Christmas.  Could we be any cheesier than this?”

“I can think of a way.”

“Yeah?”

Steve reached over and gently took the mug away from Bucky and placed it on the bedside table.  Then he answered, “Yeah, I can.”

“Okay, lay it on me,” Bucky agreed with a smile as he snuggled back against Steve.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and pressed a kiss against his hair.  He sighed contentedly. Then he opened his hand and dropped a small velvet box on Bucky’s chest.

Bucky shifted slightly to peer at the box, his smile spreading.

“Really, Rogers?”

“Really, Barnes.”

“Hmm.”

“Well?”

Bucky just smiled a little more, then moved his left arm under the covers. A moment later, he pulled out a similar velvet box, and reached over to drop it on Steve’s pec.

“Really, Barnes?”

“Really, Rogers.”

Bucky turned in Steve’s arms at the same time Steve started to lift himself up from the pillow.    “I love you,” Bucky said softly. “And yes. I choose you.”

Steve smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “That’s good.  Because I love you, too. And yes. I choose you, too.”

And Daisy lifted her head in time to see her humans kissing each other with tenderness and love.  She wagged her tail in approval, and settled her face back on her paws, drifting back to sleep.

END

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa and I are putting together an epilogue that will post sometime in the next couple of days. A few alternative points of view to round out story along with more of Lisa’s art coming - you don’t want to miss it!
> 
> 16Mar19 Update: Now with all the art (including my stick figure porn!) and the Epilogue with a specially written coda to go with Lisa’s chapter 5 art.


	6. Epilogue and Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter to showcase Lisa Mott’s incredible art, now with new POVs and a final Coda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the art is now complete. And a lot of folks have read the story, left kudos, made comments, and added bookmarks. And I wanted you to come back and see all the amazing art that Lisa has done for this story. 
> 
> It’s been an amazing experience woking with Lisa - honestly, one of my all-time best experiences working on a bang. So this “chapter” was written just for her.
> 
> Oh, and the stick figure art exists because I’d written that POV, but the art that Lisa ultimately did wasn’t for that scene, but created a new one entirely. So ... bonus. :)

 

* * *

* * *

**Jarvis:** Captain Rogers’ vitals were well within established operational parameters. JARVIS was pleased to note that Captain Rogers had settled on a nightly routine that allowed a gradual increase in heart rate, a steady proliferation of hormones and heightened response, and a safely contained release of pleasure hormones and body fluids. This activity appeared to be an excellent sleep aide, and seemed to help the Captain manage stress levels over an extended period, especially when he deployed the technique repeatedly throughout the day. JARVIS would have to commend Captain Rogers on establishing a healthful habit that did not involve using himself as a human projectile, or using his body as a living shield. And ah, it would appear the Sergeant Barnes had adopted the same regimen and schedule. JARVIS would be interested in comparing each man’s experience and interpretation of the health benefits of their newly shared interest ...

 

* * *

* * *

**Daisy:** Yes, there! Oooh, no, there! There!Oh, oh, oh! Oh, can I keep him? Please, please? Can I keep him? Oh my goodness, he’s amazing. And the other human is pretty amazing, too. They’re both amazing and I wanna stay here forever. I wanna adopt you both! Look at that smile. And I love your fur! Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Right there. Skritch me right there. No a little lower, lower, lower, Oh. Oh, that’s perfect. Oh yes. Can I live with you forever? Will you be my human? You look like a mated pair. I’ll take you both. You both can be my humans, and I will be your Daisy. Yes, this is a wonderful day. I have finally found my humans. I will keep you forever and ever!

 

* * *

* * *

**LG:** Oh. My. God. I knew he was attractive, but God. That is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And shit, is that metal? He has a metal arm? Of course he does, stupid. He was the Winter Soldier. Everyone know that he had a metal arm, and it was upgraded by Princess Shuri of Wakanda. But who knew it was so intricate, so delicate looking. So gorgeous. Like him. God, I wonder what it tastes like. I wonder what he tastes like. I mean, look at him. And that serum thingie. He’s enhanced. That probably means he can go for hours. Oh, fuck. Now I’m popping an inappropriate boner. But damn, that is one incredible specimen, and he’s so nice. And wow, okay, there’s Steve. They’re not really together, right? That would be too cruel. I wonder if they would be into poly? Because, damn, they are both gorgeous. But Buck ... damn, I could see myself falling in love with more than his man bun.

 

* * *

* * *

**Steve:** Oh. This is what it feels like. I can’t believe I’ve gone my whole life and I didn’t realize. Didn’t realize what it felt like to be held like I’m precious. I remember what it felt like to be held like I was broken. Delicate. Fragile. I remember what it felt like to be held like I was loved. I remember Ma, the way she’d hold me, the scent of her, the warmth of her. But she never felt like this. And I remember what it felt like to be in custody, in trouble, in danger. But never like this. Buck and me, we’ve danced before. But it never felt like this - cherished, cradled, cared for. And it never felt like goodbye before. And I’ve never loved him more. Do I love him enough to let him go?

 

* * *

Steve and Bucky Stick Figure Porn by Deb Walsh

* * *

**Steve:** Oh. Oh God. Why have I never seen how beautiful he is before? And now, in the firelight, he’s like a god come down from Olympus and ... Oh my God! Oh my God! He ... oh God, that feels incredible! I ... I had no idea. Oh my God, what an idiot I’ve been. We could’ve been doing this all along! Oh my God I need to touch him. I need to touch every inch of him, I ... damn, I just need. I don’t even know what I need. I just ... I just ... I need him. That’s it, that’s all. I need him. 

 

* * *

* * *

**Coda (Bucky):** When Daisy started to whine hopefully, Bucky knew it was time to take her majesty for a quick excursion. Steve was still asleep, looking ridiculously cute for such a big man. His face was mashed into the pillow, a thin trickle of drool trailing down into the mattress. Seriously, he should take a picture and share it online so he could watch the world blow up at the cuteness overload, but no. This was a moment he didn’t want to share. This was all his. His forever doofus.

But right now, their dog needed to go out before she started dancing a jig and her eyes turned yellow. He tugged on a pair of sweats - not sure if they were his or Steve’s, and it really didn’t matter anyway - shoved his feet into a pair of fluffy slippers - he liked comfort, so sue him - and shrugged on a sweatshirt, again provenance unknown. Then he led Daisy downstairs so she could poke her nose out the front door, then grin her doggy grin at him before she shot out the door, chasing snowflakes with her tongue.

Bucky had a brief flash of a toddler doing just the same thing, and he wondered how Steve felt about kids. He still only had scrambled memories of his family, like frames of film in a broken reel. But he thought he remembered what it felt like to be part of a family, to have sisters, to share. And it seemed like those were good memories. He wanted to make lots of good memories with Steve. It wasn’t time to talk kids yet - they’d only gotten engaged what, two fucks ago, so maybe a couple of hours. But sometime soon.

Finally he had to call Daisy back with a clap of his hands and a shake of her favorite treats, and she came bounding back toward the house, snow flying to either side as she expressed her joy in all things snowy. He grabbed a towel from the downstairs bathroom and dried her off, then doled out her canned food, topped off her kibble, checked the level on her water, and gave her a dish of treats.

“That should keep you occupied for a while, kiddo. Long enough for me to go love up that man of mine.”

&&&

Steve was still out cold when he got back to their bedroom, so he shucked his clothes, toed off the fuzzy slippers, and went around to his side of the bed to slip back in.

But he’d been wrong that Steve was asleep, because Bucky had no sooner sat down on the edge of the bed than Steve was a wall of warmth pressed against his back, his big strong arms around Bucky’s middle as he pulled him back down onto the bed.

“You were gone too long,” Steve murmured against the soft skin behind his ear. “I missed you.” He proceeded to place hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and shoulder, even pressed his lips softly along the seam of flesh and metal, and kissed the crown of Bucky’s vibranium shoulder.

“Mmmm. That’s nice. And who you think you’re kidding, chum? You were drooling in dreamland, doll. You didn’t even know I was gone.”

Steve paused in his trail of kisses to press his face against Bucky’s. “I did. I always know when you’re close, when you’re not. It’s like ... it’s like you’re part of me. And I can feel when you’re not there.”

“Yeah? Sounds kinda romantic to me.”

“Oh, it’s romantic as fuck, baby,” Steve growled, pulling Bucky even closer.

“Listen to you, all alpha male and talkin’ dirty. Think I created a monster here, pal,” Bucky laughed as he turned his face to nuzzle against Steve’s jaw.

“Nah. Just a happy man,” Steve said softly, turning his face so he could capture Bucky’s lips in a sweet kiss. “A happy man who’s finally where he belongs.”

“In my arms.”

“And in your bed.”

“Damn straight, sugar,” Bucky agreed as he pulled Steve’s lips back to kiss him properly.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to share this story with you, and the incredible art Lisa has made. 
> 
> 16Mar19: We’ve just added an epilogue to feature all of Lisa’s art.
> 
> This story is a labor of love, and has grown to be one of my favorites of my works. I hope you will love it as much as i do. 
> 
> You know the drill when it comes to comments! They give me life, they give me joy, they sustain me through the long dark winter ... they make me happy. Please let Lisa know how much you love her work as well - every submission to a bang is a collaboration of art and story, and in this case, chatting with Lisa helped me make decisions about the story, so art and story are very much tied together in this case.


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